The Oath
by ftninja
Summary: Loki finally gets the dominion he has been seeking. Before Odin allows his ascension, Loki must be oath-bound to a noblewoman whose one condition forbids him to lie to her. The manner of their oath will perhaps drive them both mad...or will Loki finally understand his father's machinations and come to the salvation Odin always wished for his wayward son? Loki/Sigyn
1. Privity of the Prodigal Son

Set after the events of The Dark World. I'm going more with what I know of mythology (and taking creative liberties) and mixing it with movie-verse (and taking even more liberties). I never read the comics, but from what I hear our little heroine wasn't exactly captivating in that universe, and shall draw minimally from that canon. I have a vision. And I'm going to let you see it.

I

_Privity (noun) - private or secret knowledge_

A solitary figure ghosted through the halls of Odin's palace, sent on an errand of watchfulness. Odin-King's spirit had been troubled by the news of his son Loki's death when the guard had reported it. That Thor had defeated Malekith and returned to Asgard did not draw him out of the grief he bore for his late queen, nor draw him out of the healing room to go to his victorious heir, was troubling to the servant who attended the Allfather in his mourning. And so the servant had been instructed to go to the throne room in secret.

It was well the servant did as directed and moved with discretion. The scene that played out upon arrival would have confused any other. Thor spoke to his father who seemed to quietly accept his renouncement of the throne in favor of the mortal woman he left behind on Midgard. Thor also did not seem to think it out of character of his father to simply send him on his way back to the realm he had just defended. The prince of thunder departed, and there were moments of heavy silence in the throne room.

"Show yourself to me," the supposed Allfather ordered, his eyes searching the shadows for one who he knew was there. The servant obeyed immediately, dropping to the floor in obeisance at the foot of the throne.

"Sigyn," the old man spoke. "It is not in your nature to hide in darkness. Why are you here?"

"I am here at your command, Allfather," the woman responded, her eyes lowered to the floor. She knew this was not Odin-King. The essence of magic and a presence she had not been near to in quite some time permeated the throne room. It was not the essence of the old magic of Odin. "I do not presume to question your designs, my king, but I wonder why you sent me from your side in the healing rooms, and how you managed to get here before me, given your state when I left you."

Sigyn raised her eyes just enough to see a sudden twitch, a flash of panic wash over the king's face. The glamour was cracked, but its bearer would not call it away yet. Stubborn. Just like he always had been. Sigyn rose, her eyes downcast in continued reverence.

"Did you think that I would not know you for who you are?" she asked. "I can perceive you, my lord, as I always have."

The glamour dissipated and Sigyn raised her eyes to meet a hardened emerald glare. "I will kill you," he seethed, almost to himself. "You, the only one my spell cannot deceive, would ruin everything."

"You will not kill me," she replied. "The Allfather, along with the healers under Eir and the rest of Asgard would notice and search for you. You would not be able to hide very long."

Loki knew he had been caught. Sigyn had always been the servant in his mother's court who could pick him out of all his illusions, always knew it was him when he posed as someone else. It infuriated him that she could, but also that he couldn't ever figure out how so that he could adjust his method.

"You have sent away Odin's heir. How do you propose to continue sitting upon that throne when you are presumed dead and the Allfather is not so deep in his grief yet not to return to it?"

Damn. Loki hadn't calculated on that. The first chance he had upon his return, he had taken. He had thought the king's absence from the throne room meant another Odin-sleep. Blinking he looked to Sigyn. "You said he is in the healing rooms. He is well?"

"He grieves for his late queen still. The news of Prince Loki's death at the hands of the Dark Elves weighs heavily on his heart, enough that he has not yet announced it to the kingdom," she replied.

There was a bitter pause in which a sneer visibly plastered itself onto his face. "He would never mourn my passing."

"When have you ever known a lie to pass my lips?" Sigyn asked quietly. Silence. "Come with me to him. He is weary."

"I saw him when I reported my own death in the guise of that soldier," Loki snapped, his green eyes flashing at the woman before him. His ire was rising. "His face never fell, his eye never saddened!"

"You lie to yourself if you think your father does not love you. Perhaps he perceived you then, as I do-"

"That old fool knows nothing of magic."

Sigyn stopped, her lips becoming thin. She had changed since last he knew her, the girl servant to his mother. Her stature and the way she carried herself even as she stood before him was no longer that of the young immortal who knew the truth and immediately spoke it to any who would hear. No, she knew something, but had learned discernment, the art of speaking what she perceived at the most beneficial moment.

"Come with me," she said. "I think the Allfather would see you."

It had been with great reluctance that he followed his father's servant to the healing chambers within the palace. She had taken great care to take him through hallways that were less traveled by nobles and servants. When they came to the door of his chamber, Sigyn held a finger to her lips. The king's state required quiet and Loki understood that there was something different this time. There was concern in Sigyn's eyes that a healer should not have of a healthy, if older, man.

Opening the door, Sigyn brought Loki to the inner room where Odin lay propped in a bed, his eyes closed. As soon as the younger prince of Asgard crossed the threshold of the room, Odin opened his eyes, erasing any doubt that he was in his slumber.

"Thank you, Sigyn," Odin nodded at the servant quietly. "I am glad you and I share the same premonitions."

"A premonition I learned from one you loved greatly, my lord king," Sigyn replied, still deep in her curtsey. "It was an honor to serve Queen Frigga, as it is an honor to now serve you."

Loki looked on with some sense of shock. The old man looked positively haggard. The war between the Dark Elves and Asgard, the rebellion of his sons in taking the mortal Jane from the realm, the loss of his queen and supposedly his son...it was finally catching up to Odin and the strain of rule was not kind to him. A part of Loki's mind sneered, demeaning the ill king for his old age. The other parts berated him for disrespect, and another was full of dread. It was becoming the end.

Sigyn stood near to Odin at the headboard, near a table of salves, a decanter of water and incense. She appropriately shrank near the wall, available if the king needed treatment, and yet out of the way. With but a look, Odin called his prodigal son to his side.

"You live," the king said simply.

"Disappointed?" Loki lashed out, the word barely passing his lips as he immediately regretted them. Even as bitterness ate at his heart, he knew this was not the time or place for such things.

"My disappointment in you stems from my own selfishness. You are not all at fault for your actions, though your own decisions will dictate the consequences."

Loki's lips pressed into a fine line.

"Sigyn," Odin only barely turned his head and she was on her knees nearby. "It is well I sent you to the throne room. Tell me, what did you see?"

Loki watched Odin as the tale was recounted rather faithfully. The King's expression was unreadable, even as the memory ended and his deception made known.

"So, Thor willingly renounced his birthright?" Odin asked.

"Yes, my lord. I perceive his heart unwilling to be apart from this woman, even thinking his brother lost and your line of rule broken," Sigyn replied.

"Who else knows of Loki's return to Asgard?"

"None, my lord. You commanded secrecy in going, and I upheld the order in my return."

"Well done, Sigyn," Odin softly praised, his hand atop her head in a motion for her to rise. "We have yet time to mend and prepare."

"What do you mean?" Loki frowned. Ill at ease, he did not like the thought of his brother's return, nor Thor's anger upon learning what he had done.

"Ever have you sought the throne, Loki," Odin replied. "You have maneuvered yourself into a dangerous position. Asgard does not trust you, nor do you have love of the people. And, you have given me little choice but to allow your ascension."

"A sudden change of heart?" Loki sneered. "You seem to have had no compunctions from forbidding it before."

"Thor had been bound to duty before and accepted it. That he gave it up, even as you deceived him, tells me he never truly wanted it. It falls to you now, though your manner of taking it bodes ill for your future."

"Is that a threat?"

"I have lost you twice before because I was heavy handed in my dealings with you. I would not now lose you a third time. No, Loki. The consequences of your desires will not be passed through me."

There was a heavy silence. Loki shifted his weight from one foot to the other, impatient for what he supposed would be his sentencing by the Allfather.

"You will go back to your chambers, and prepare for the courts. In the coming days, let all of Asgard know that you live, and let the truth of Thor's heart be made known." Odin breathed deep as of a man wearied by long deliberations. "For now, I will rest. A great many things must be done. I will see them through and have you established before I yet succumb to sleep."


	2. The Nightmare Oath

II

In the days that passed after Odin spoke to his son in secret, the courts of Asgard stirred with discontent. Loki was not the son favored by the realm, and whispers that he had forced his father's hand in choosing him as next in line flew on the air. Rumors of Thor's death were added, and speculation as to the king's state of mind also arose.

Loki's presence in the palace, and Odin's absence from the throne room did little to ease unrest. Moods were dark until the Allfather again appeared in his dress of state, bearing the spear Gungnir, his sombre face dictating silence. Loki was summoned to court and with all the pomp of one who was clearly ignoring the rumors and blithely smiling in the face of judgment, he appeared.

"Loki Odinson," he began, his deep voice filling the golden hall. "Against my wishes, you bore the Midgard woman away in secret with your brother Thor. You went to confront the enemy and gave him the power he sought."

"I did so in accordance with Thor's wishes, Allfather," Loki replied in his defense. "And might I add, Thor was victorious in his battle against Malekith on Midgard."

"You also went with vengeance in your heart," Odin continued. Loki stilled. No one knew his mind...perhaps his father was not the fool he took him for. Or perhaps someone had seen them as they escaped Asgard. Surely, with the many faces he chose to wear, no one could have guessed his intent.

"You went to Svartalfheim and did battle with the beast who slew your mother, Queen Frigga. Your brother sang praises of your cunning and valor."

The court's harried whisperings fell deathly silent. Their shock was palpable. No one guessed the true nature of the relationship between the queen and her son, or that his grief had driven him to such an end. Thor's love however would cover a multitude of his sins and so it came as no surprise that he would seek favor for his brother.

"Thor has abdicated the throne of Asgard," Odin spoke again. The whispering of court began anew. "The woman of his heart does not belong here, and yet because he loves her, he will not leave her side. I give him my blessing, and am left to choose another heir for the well being of my people, the Aesir."

Loki frowned. The grand speeches, his lofty purposes. No one would ever tell Odin what the courts would so loudly shout in the streets to each other. _Do not give us Loki! Never Loki!_

"To preserve the future of this realm I must pass my throne. Let it be known that Loki Odinson shall be my heir, and when the time comes will rule Asgard."

Loki felt Odin's gaze upon him. It was even, and heavy, as if to say he'd better not change his mind as Thor did. Loki smirked. He had always been focused, had always a singular purpose. Anyone who had thought he'd ever not pursued the throne was an outright fool. As the attending court fell apart into its own gossip, Odin raised Gungnir and brought it to the floor with a sharp crack that echoed through the hall, bringing silence again.

"There shall be no contest of my will," Odin glared. "My son's birthright shall not be challenged, nor his right to rule questioned."

With that, the assembly was dismissed. Odin departed the hall, and Loki was left to his own devices with which to fend off the wolves of court. The first to descend upon him were Thor's entourage - Sif, and the Warriors Three. Lady Sif seemed to speak for all of them as she stomped closer, coming eye to eye with the traitorous brother.

"How have you managed this?" Sif spat. "Thor would not have given up his birthright so easily. You lied to both of them."

"Nice to see you, Sif," Loki smiled thinly, ignoring the warning of wrath in her eyes. Volstagg reached for Loki's arm.

"What have you done to Thor?" he accused, demanding an answer as Loki tore his arm out of the grip.

"I let him pursue his heart," Loki sneered. Even against his warning of the vast differences between their kind, Thor still chased a woman in love. Let him, her life would be brief enough. Hogun and Fandral pressed closer, their brows knit together in anger and misunderstanding.

"My lord," a familiar voice spoke before they could accuse him more. Loki turned to see Sigyn nearby. It was a shock to see her not in her robes as a healer but in a gown of blue that softly draped her form. Her honey blonde hair was swept back into a braid that was wound tightly at the nape of her neck, pinned by combs.

Someone to interrupt the constant badgering of the Three? He'll take it. Loki took Sigyn's hand in his and gave a swift kiss to her knuckles, a shallow smile upon his lips. "Lady Sigyn, a pleasure to see you."

Her bored expression told him she didn't care for the show of flattery. "Allfather has asked for you. I am sent to bring you to him," she replied, ignoring the glares radiating off Sif and her companions.

"Ever faithful, Sigyn," Loki purred, his smile false as he turned it toward Sif's murderous gaze. As they walked away from the golden hall, the farce of joviality dropped and Sigyn nearly tore her hand from his grip, changing her pace so they did not walk so closely together.

"Do not think that I am able to always shield you so conveniently," she stated, her gaze ever forward and her tone informative and even. Loki gave her a sidelong glance, truly seeing her for the first time in many years. Perception was a gift he valued. Sigyn shared his talent, as did a few others, but none so keenly as she.

"But I'll always need a skirt to hide behind," he scoffed, his tone demeaning. Sigyn stopped suddenly and whirled toward him.

"I have been maneuvered to serve the only woman whom you clung to, once upon a time," she hissed. Loki's smile was gone. The wound she struck out at was far too fresh for him, and she tread upon dangerous ground.

"By her will I served her, and my servitude passed to the King. I will do as directed. I will carry out my liege's orders, though you deserve to be torn apart by the people."

"You know nothing of what I deserve," Loki snarled.

"You know nothing of Her Grace's tireless persistence for you. For months you were in that cell; every day she procured comforts for you, every day she visited you. Every night she returned to her chambers, her heart rent apart for the son she so desperately loved and wanted to help. You reviled her at every turn. But still she loved you. Do not make light of her endless treaties to the Allfather for your release, the shortening of your incarceration. You didn't have to watch her weep when the doors were closed and the courtiers could not whisper."

Sigyn's rebuke was harsh but she did not raise her voice to him. The walls of Odin's palace had ears, and it was for his sake that she kept her voice to a lowered pitch. Loki was unguarded enough from her outburst to allow true remorse to settle into his features. No one spoke to him in such a way, outside the royal family. He suddenly felt like a little boy with Frigga scolding him again. Frigga...

"She wept," he whispered, trying not to let his voice crack at the memory of his beautiful mother.

"Bitterly," Sigyn's voice cracked for him. Looking up at her, Loki realized she mourned deeply for Frigga, perhaps as much as he did. Sigyn was never very good at hiding her emotions, even when she didn't intend to be so readable. Her blue eyes blinked back tears and she took a breath to steady her trembling.

"His manner is entirely different than my lady Frigga's, but Odin-King would ensure your future," Sigyn said, continuing on her way down the hall. "She must be watching, from the halls of Valhalla, or he is reminded of something they spoke of. What I perceive of the king is not his usual course."

"You presume to know the king's mind?" Loki rebuffed, hardly believing that she would be privy to Odin's plans. Odin-King, who took counsel from no one...or so he thought.

"My service to the queen has been passed to the king so quickly," Sigyn replied after some thought. "But it seems to me that he is not proceeding as he would in days past."

With that, she knocked on the tall oaken door they finally stopped at. Odin's voice resonated from within for her to enter and Sigyn complied, curtsying deeply before the king who sat behind his desk. His gaze drifted behind the servant to greet his son.

"Sit, my son," Odin commanded. "Sigyn, close the door. I would have you remain."

Sigyn's brow furrowed slightly as she and Loki passed each other to do as each was bid. Odin's office was clean, ornate and stately, but it was not a place one wished to be. With the door closed, Sigyn stood against it as if she were its guard as Loki sat on one of the plush chairs before his father, sighing.

"You have seen for yourself the turmoil that would plague your reign," Odin stated. Loki did not respond. It was a fact, and it was now plain to nearly everyone the task set before him that he chose.

"Did you mean to rule the Aesir in the same manner as you would have the Midgardians? As diminished as their line is, they still had strength to resist you. The Aesir's line has not been diluted so much. You cannot think that their resistance to you would not be mightier."

Might. Loki suppressed a shudder, having a memory of the angry green giant that had taken hold of him in New York. There had been no escaping that grasp, and god he may have called himself, the pain that saturated his body as he lay there still reminded him that he only lived longer than the people of that realm. Silence stretched thick like a fog between them.

"Would you have me beg and plead for their favor? Even if I worked for their benefit, they would still think my motives evil. I cannot change who I am or what I've done. I am used to their disparaging remarks, their hateful whispers, and I am better prepared for their malice because of it."

"I would not tolerate their malcontent against their future king, and nor should you. But do not think that I have earned allegiance because I forced them to. I had to earn it. I know you believe my methods harsh and unforgiving, but there were times when they had to be. I have seen lifetimes of heartless wars and fragile peace. I also have sons who are impatient and want things their own way, unseeing of the consequences of their youthful vigor." Odin's gaze upon Loki was calculating, but the prince perceived that in his own way, the king was trying to be loving in his guidance.

"What shall I do then, Odin-King?" Loki's tone bordered on sarcasm. "Shall I take counsel of old men who would see me dead?"

Odin leaned back in his chair. Indeed he had only truly taken counsel of one. Frigga alone had the power to bend his ear, to convince him to divert his course. His advisers knew, and all attempted to hold sway, but Frigga was clever and held his heart, even through the long years. Loki would greatly need assistance, and from one who had never learned duplicity or deceit. He blinked long and slow, being reminded of his wife when she had been frustrated with one of her students. He looked to Sigyn.

"What do you think, Sigyn?"

The servant of the king lifted her head, eyes wide and completely thrown off her center. "I...would not presume to advise..."

"You do not presume," Odin interrupted. "I ask it."

Loki had a perfect seat to fully view both Odin-King and Sigyn. The king had the same measuring gaze that had been on his son, and Sigyn took a moment to compose herself before answering. Loki almost smirked to see the flutter of her pulse still twitching at her throat even as it slowed.

"I...believe it would be wise if His Highness surrounded himself with people beneficial to him. I perceive as many do, that he does not have friends. Those he had before the war are now lost to him. But perhaps there are some who could be called on to give their aid to him willingly."

"You are known for your cognition, child. How many are known to you who would willingly befriend my son, truly?" Odin asked.

The reality of his situation crashed against Loki mercilessly when Sigyn's shoulders slumped further and further as she recounted in her mind the dwindling list of his allies. How could he rule if he forcibly could not make allies? Love for a monarch did not come as easily as fear did, and his mastery of magic would quicken his death. It was his own fault. His tricks and his bitter heart had tied his own hands when it came to his ambition.

"Not many, my lord,' Sigyn replied sadly. It was unfortunate, but she could not think of a single person who would willingly let the Lord of Lies sway them to his side in allegiance. Trickery or blackmail would have to be involved and that wouldn't exactly cast him in a better light.

"Not many," Odin admitted. A thought occurred to him. "Would you?"

"My lord?" Sigyn's pulse began to quicken again.

"Would you aid my son as King of Asgard?"

Loki leaned back in his chair and watched the blood drain from her face. He knew no one trusted him or could stand him in the slightest, but that didn't mean the sting of rejection ever went away. Sigyn appeared to choose her words carefully.

"Forgive me my lord, but it would depend greatly upon the manner of the aid required of me," she answered.

"You were once hailed upon Midgard as the goddess of your word. You are still regarded for your loyalty and keen intuition of others among the Aesir."

"What would you have me do, my king?" she asked apprehensively.

"I would have you pledge your loyalty to my son. The Aesir will see you and know of your nature. Perhaps through you they can be lead to follow my son's leadership," Odin explained.

Sigyn relaxed. So it was merely the transferring of her servitude from one in the royal family to another. Before she could answer, Odin looked to his son.

"The pledge will require both of you to take an oath of the oldest in the universe. It will be upheld by the oldest of magic, and the breaking of this oath will result in death."

"Really, must you be so melodramatic?" Loki snorted. The look Odin gave him was one of warning. It was for his own protection that the oath would have to be taken, and to ensure that Loki could not cheat or otherwise betray Sigyn's faithfulness for his own gain, he had to trust that his son could not be trusted.

"The soul oath," Sigyn breathed quietly. Odin and Loki broke their gaze to turn toward her, Odin with pride that she knew of it and Loki with a scoff on his lips that she believed in it.

"It is old magic, is it not?" She asked. Odin nodded.

"Not even the Vanir made this spell. The casting of it requires a great will and the full capacity of magic force from both who bind themselves with it."

"You command me to take this oath, Allfather?"

"I do not command," Odin softened as he looked upon Sigyn's agitation. "I ask it of you, for the sake of my son."

"This oath was taken by the Vanir many times in ages past, usually between betrothed as the ultimate act of loyalty," Sigyn said. Odin looked at her evenly, and she perceived the answer to her unasked question. "There are others perhaps better suited, Allfather."

Loki laughed. "Indeed, Odin-King, if you wanted such an arrangement perhaps we could make allegiance with Vanaheim. It is needless to punish her if it is intended to inflict me instead."

"You forget my heritage and mistake my meaning, Your Highness," Sigyn said quickly. "I know of the spell because it was in my history lessons at home. You sense my resistance because it will result in what will seem as a romantic bond. You know my nature, Your Grace. Deception is not a part of me, and I cannot imagine that any would believe Lord Loki would choose me in that manner."

"Think on it, Sigyn," Odin replied after a measure of thought to her words. "Should you do as I ask without taking the oath, Loki would still be open to attack, and no amount of your discretion would be able to save him, especially should he choose a woman who wanted his ruin and his throne."

"I am inadequate to the task you set before me, my king," Sigyn punctuated with finality. "Nor am I worthy to be anyone's queen.'

"Do not demean yourself, child," Odin said. "Your service to me came highly praised, and you were considered worthy by her. You are simply unused to the treachery of politics in court and you have no manner in which to defend yourself. Therein lies my son's power. His life depends upon your safety as much as yours upon his. It is a dangerous oath that would hold both of you to your word. I do not ask this lightly of you."

Sigyn was extremely humbled. Even now Frigga was advancing her, as she tried and could not so many years ago. When Sigyn took to her studies of healing magic and medicines, Frigga had given up teaching her the arts that her son had adapted to so quickly. Knowing that the late queen still held her in high regard despite her failings and spoke to the king of her settled her spirit. The undertaking would be difficult – nay near disastrous. Something pulled at her spirit, and she could not fail the queen's memory, not now.

"I will agree, if His Highness wishes it," she answered.

"Well, it's not as if I have a choice, now do I?" Loki responded. Truly, he could not refuse and was resigned to ever be maneuvered by the will of Odin.

"Tonight then, we will meet in the throne room," the king said. "I would witness your oath-taking."

* * *

Loki paced at the foot of the stair leading to the throne where his father sat. Sigyn was late in coming, and Loki briefly entertained the thought she wouldn't ever appear. Bitterly he snorted to himself. No, once Sigyn agreed to something, she carried out her word to completion. How ironic that he could be bound to someone everyone trusted.

He idly looked to Odin, whose eyes were closed. The dark-haired prince wondered how much longer he had until his father truly slept. It seemed the snatches he took to resting were becoming more frequent. Loki's mouth drew into a line. What did it matter, the old fool never loved him. Even now, Loki knew his father couldn't trust him.

The quiet opening of a side door and the sound of slippers against the floor signaled Sigyn's arrival. Odin opened his eyes as Loki turned his head toward her. The prince's eyes radiated his displeasure.

"Took you long enough," he needled. "Is this how it shall always be? That my everlasting punishment is to wait for you?"

"Enough, Loki," Odin ordered as he rose from his throne, carrying Gungnir down the stairs to stand before his son and servant. "You will have a lifetime to make misery for each other if you choose, can it not wait until I am deaf to the Nine Realms?"

Loki turned from glaring daggers at Sigyn since she was not withering under his gaze, and folded his arms across his chest with a joyfully malicious smile on his lips. "Well, if you're going to miss the litter of brats we're sure have."

Sigyn sighed in irritation. "Must you be impossible? This is meant to be for your benefit. Why can't you at least bear it?"

"Because I must be impossible," he replied in mock glee.

Gungnir pounded the floor, reminding them both of their purpose. Odin looked at them, the hard gleam in his good eye effectively silencing the two. "Each of you are allowed one condition for the oath taking. Whatever condition you choose, remember that you shall be irrevocably tied to the other. Loki, on what condition would you bind yourself to Sigyn?"

Loki seemed to pause, and Sigyn set her will immediately to his intent. His green eyes glinted in what light there was in the throne room, and she could not but feel as if she were at the wrong end of this bargain. With this extreme disadvantage of her nature on her side, and his nature on his, the irony of the situation was not lost on her. Try as she might, she did not perceive dissimulation on his part.

"Your purpose is to aid my rule. You will do what I cannot, and be my eyes where I cannot see," he finally answered. Even as he spoke, he wondered if she could do it. He had taken after Frigga in his proficiency in the arts of sorcery. Was there truly anything he could not do, anything he could not see?

Slowly, Sigyn nodded her agreement. Odin's knowing gaze pierced through the veil of his son's mind. Yes, Loki was uncertain of his future and only further cemented that Sigyn would be instrumental to him. "And you will not lie to me," she replied evenly.

The snarl upon his lips was there before he could take hold of it and squash it back down into himself. _She would,_ he thought bitterly. _She __**would**__ force me to go against my nature. I could have forced the same...I wish..._

Before the bile of his bitterness could come to his lips, he nodded, the frown still upon his countenance. From the corner of his gaze, he could see the Allfather with a proud smile. Yes, Odin had chosen well, the woman to bind him to.

"These shall be your terms of binding. Sigyn, your failure to see a danger not perceived by Loki will be your doom. And Loki, your serpent's tongue will be stilled forever to Sigyn, that she may better perceive the truth." Odin again pounded Gungnir to the floor and a heaviness pervaded the throne room.

Loki's senses heightened and he felt a force. It was old, and powerful. He had not felt such power, not from the Casket of the Jotun, or the glory of the Tesseract, or even the Aether of the Dark Elves. It was a power older than the artifacts of the realms themselves. It slipped around him, covered him, and he felt slightly daunted at its fierce voracity. And then he felt it pass him by, seeing out the one whose power was diminutive in comparison. Unbidden, alarm rang at his mind. The power sought out Sigyn first and he knew she was in its grasp when she suddenly started, jerky motions drawing her hand to her chest as her breath grew more ragged.

Her cheeks flushed, her skin grew hot. The air was suddenly very close and still. Why was it so hard for her to breathe? All at once she felt a great weight on her forehead, tilting it backward, her balance askew and drawing her feet from under her. She was lifted, being borne upon something she could not see. But she could tell this power was far greater than anything she had ever read or imagined. Why would anyone willingly seek this out, even if it would bind them to the one they loved most? Even in love...did love make fearlessness? Her mind raced in panic as she felt the tendrils of the force that held her ease itself into every opening of her being, and it pried her mouth open.

Loki's eyes widened as Sigyn levitated and he could almost see the invisible fingers that parted her lips and reached in. She did not struggle against it but her fear was unmasked, unadulterated. He looked to Odin. If he did nothing, Sigyn would die during the binding. He had no doubts this raw power, whatever it was, would snap her like a twig if she so much as bent a thought against it.

"Father," he began, but he was silenced with a single look. Would Odin-King sacrifice this woman? Her propensity toward the more powerful forms of magic were lesser, and that is why her studies under Frigga ceased.

"Your mother tutored you both," Odin answered. "And they shared Vanir blood. You doubt Sigyn because she could not cast illusions so easily as you. There is strength of will in her, and you will need that of her ere the end."

It pulled at him now, more powerful in its grip. His lungs greedily sucked in air at his surprise and Loki felt a heavy tug at his entire frame. Then he realized his boots were sliding across the floor, his body flailing toward Sigyn. It took a hold of his mind, the fingers in his consciousness more tight than the Chitari messenger he communed with during his madness with the Tesseract upon Midgard. His eyes rolled back in his head when he suddenly felt forcibly pulled out of his body through his chest and into a space he could not name.

It seemed like he was caught in a hurricane. The noise was white, nameless, indiscernible and deafening. What felt like a horrible wind raked across his skin and prickled against his being. Everything was dark and yet not. Where was he? He looked down and saw he was no longer in his physical form. He felt...free from it. But the seeming wind in this place blew him about terribly and he realized that he was no longer anchored to a manifestation of himself within the Nine Realms. He could not put a finger on what was happening or where he was, but he had the good sense to be afraid and wish for his physical form.

Agonized cries, as one would hear over the violent raging of a thunderstorm echoed to his ears. He searched through a landscape torn and unstable until he saw a light, a consciousness. Sigyn. In pain, her presence pulsed, and a flashing vision of her physical form writhing against an unyielding chain oscillated and disappeared. He now understood what was happening. Her soul had been forcibly taken from her physical form to undergo the oath, as his had been. It seemed his capacity and mastery of magic was shielding him from the pain. Another emotion unbidden arose. Anxiety for her well being.

The bind finally appeared, whipping to and fro in the fickle realm of the unknown. The chain, the incantation fetter that would forever connect Loki and Sigyn together in the unbreakable, irreversible oath. Dark realization washed over him. The proximity of their connection, the manner of their binding. Odin had known of this spell – from whom, he could not guess – and had known there would be no escape for his son. The crushing intimacy, whether he wanted it or not, meant that here would be one he could not hide from. Her essence reached out to him, her cognizance stumbling blindly in this realm. In shock he forcefully pushed away, rejecting the brush of her soul from his. Again her pained weeping rang through his ears. _Help. Help me!_

Loki treasured his secret thoughts and it was as if she were reaching to take them from him. Too late, did he turn to run. The chain whipped toward him like an adder about to strike and with despair ripping through his very being, it caught him, pulling him back toward the woman that cried out to him. A burst of light flashed behind his eyes and he too screamed. Unrivaled rage, frustration and fear. What will happen to him now?

Loki suddenly awoke with a start as if from a nightmare to find himself sprawled on the floor. Blinking owlishly, he raised his head and saw he was indeed in the throne room still. Sitting up slowly, he cautiously stretched to search his body for pain and looked about him. Odin sat upon his throne, in light slumber. The prince could only feel his own spirit unsettled, and satisfied he sustained no injuries, he turned his head. Her back to him, Sigyn lay prone. The force that had taken the essence from her body had not been kind to her. Her hair was torn from its combs, and lay in disarray across her back. He took a breath and then realized with horror that he could barely perceive her.

Loki hurried over and turned her so that he could see her face. He touched her forehead. It was cold. Fear seized at his mind and he quickly gathered her up in his arms, fairly running from the golden hall to the houses of healing. What have they done?

* * *

This and the first chapter took me all of my two days off to write. I am exhausted, but I hope you are pleased. Sorry it was so long. I wanted the title to be revealed so badly, and my dedication to the one who inspired me to write what I promise will be a monster of a fiction.


	3. Entropy

This is the chapter where it starts to get weird, deep and quite frankly disturbing. I've marked it accordingly as an M rated fic, and I'm not going into detail about the uncomfortable stuff, but you need to be prepared in case you don't have a heart for such things. This story is a character study, pretty much, very spiritual in nature, but above all, it's a dramatic romance. I'll just...get to the feel goods later... Also, I think I've finally hit upon a face for Sigyn, after looking through a few celebrity photos. Perhaps describing her just got that much easier.

* * *

III

Sigyn's condition did not change after Loki took her to Eir's care. The house of her spirit remained cold and lifeless, and the head healer's ministrations to that form were of no avail. For two days and nights, Sigyn partook of sleep as of the dead. At last, Eir confided her concern to the prince who often came to the healing houses to inquire of the progress.

"I can feel that she is alive, my lord," Eir answered, never asking how Loki somehow found Sigyn's unconscious body on the floor of the throne room. "I can sense death – this is wholly different. But her spirit is not within. It's as if she has gone from her house and yet left the door open because she intended to return."

Loki was quite taken aback at this news, and Eir smiled mirthlessly. "I will not ask how it came to pass that Sigyn stumbled upon a door to the realm of the spirit and found the will and means to leave her body. But if she does not return soon I fear that the door she left open will shut itself, and she will never awaken."

"How does one enter the realm of the spirit?" Loki asked, his curiosity seeming for its own sake. He understood now what realm he and Sigyn had been in, when they were bound. Perhaps the violent shudderings against his senses that he felt – the wind, and endless unsettling – were because they were not taken to that realm of their own will. Perhaps that was why Sigyn's conscious felt pain, because it would not cease its restless shifting.

"Easily, if one put their will to it," Eir responded, seeing to it that her medicines and salves were arranged satisfactorily, before she turned to the empty shell that housed Sigyn's spirit. She looked at it fondly, as a sad mother would of a child who slept with troubled dreams. "It requires a great resolve and some concentration. I have noticed that those who have greater affinity to the arts my lord is a student of find it nigh effortless to slip in and out of that realm. Sigyn's training has not been so complete as yours in those arts. Though her skill is a valuable asset to us here in these halls, it is still lacking, and it surprises me that she could have reached a higher plane upon which souls walk."

The pieces clicked together and Loki had now everything he needed to understand. "Thank you, Eir," he smiled, looking upon Sigyn's form in the bed. Her features were not so sharp as an aristocrat's were wont to be. The lines of her jaw, the short, rounded edge of her narrow nose. Everything about her face was soft, rounded, sweet. It was as if she were simply sleeping. Loki was considering this woman so intently that he did not notice Eir's gaze, nor that he was allowing himself a brief lapse enough to let slip that he thought her pleasing to look at. When he pulled himself out of thought, he found himself alone in the healing room. Eir had closed the door on her way out.

Loki pulled a chair over the bedside and sat. The connection they had shared while she was out of her body was still there. He felt it tugging at his mind. But with her not there to answer, it was as if the bind that held them both trailed from him to...nowhere. As if it stretched into a fog he could not see past. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to fish you out, won't I?" he sighed in irritation. "This wasn't the plan, Sigyn."

Loki leaned back in the chair and took a deep, calming breath as he closed his eyes. Resolve. Concentration. Loki cleared the palette of his mind and focused. He felt himself beginning to drift, as if he were walking out of his body. He he could see himself, as he fell into the grasp of that which pulled him. He plunged, as into a dark pool, an abyss that swirled about him. He let go a little more and let himself sink. He closed his eyes, then opened them. He found himself upon an embankment, looking toward the great expanse of an endless sea. He looked down, pleased to see at least a physical manifestation of himself dressed in one of his more relaxed tunic and trousers, even if they were wet. He supposed the abyss he plunged into was the sea he saw lapping at the embankment.

Rising with a sigh and smoothing out his shirt as if to dry it, Loki straightened and looked about him. The shoreline was small, and he could see a small woodland nearby. Something tugged at him, and he looked down again at his hand. Rippling in and out of existence on his arm was the soul bind and the chain it was attached to. He sighed in resigned exasperation and followed the chain into the woods.

It was quiet, when he stepped into the lush treeline. A sense of serenity and near contentment wrapped around him as he continued further in. The trees were tall, having grown many centuries in that place, and were still buzzing with the pulse of life. There were no birds, no wild beasts calling to each other. As Loki continued to walk, the eerie silence caressed him, inviting him further in. He paused, suddenly feeling watched. He turned toward where he thought the presence was. A head ducked back behind a tree a little too late, long golden strands flashing behind. He almost snorted. What made her think she could hide from him?

The curious eyes reappeared from behind the tree trunk, and something struck him as odd. The eyes, the face were Sigyn's but there was something about this curious creature who wore a plain gown the color of a pale, rainy sky that seemed different. He beckoned to the girl. "Come out, I won't hurt you," he replied gently, for it seemed she would run from him any minute.

She seemed strangely childlike and shy. He never remembered Sigyn being such an introvert. As she came closer, her eyes were downcast almost in fear, and by what strange light there was to see, he could tell tear tracks down her face.

"Who are you?" Loki felt it right to ask. There was just enough of a prickle at his senses that something was wrong here.

"I am Meekness," she replied after a pause. He blinked. "Or, Timidity. Or Modesty. Whichever you would care to call me."

"Why are you crying?" he asked, a strange wondering taking hold of him.

"I...I am lost," Meekness sighed shakily, still hiccuping from her weeping.

An investigative concern washed over him. "Were you the one asking for help?"

"You felt the storm too? That's when I lost her."

"Who is she?"

"The other one. The one who takes care of me," she replied as a small child lost in city streets to one who would take her back.

"Walk with me, and let us find her. I promise that you will not come to harm," he smiled, offering his arm. Her build seemed sickeningly small, more slender than her physical form. Meekness...this couldn't really be Sigyn. Perhaps this was a side of her? A characteristic he'd never paid attention to?

"Thank you," she smiled weakly. "You're very kind."

"I'm not," he frowned as the words left his lips. It was as if he couldn't control them, keep them from coming out. "Not really."

"What is your name?"

"I am Loki. I'm looking for someone too. I thought you would be her."

An amused giggle. "Nobody looks for me. I'm not as important as she is."

The dawning of a realization cracked through him as he looked at the 'little girl Sigyn'. This was her soul. He was walking with a personification of Sigyn. Or rather, _one_ of them. He wondered who he would meet of her spirit that had been shattered on impact of the oath. A shiver ran up his form, and excitement exploded behind his eyes. _How many,_ he wondered. Another thought struck him, as he pondered these things and their dizzying implications. _Important as who?_

"There you are!" another melody of a personification. A second manifestation of Sigyn hurried toward them. This one seemed bolder, and the outline of her form sharper. It seemed taller than the one that walked next to him, healthier and shapely. Meekness's face lit up with relieved recognition and ran toward the other attribute of Sigyn's soul who wore a slightly finer gown of cerulean that shimmered.

Loki looked on and frowned when Modesty's smile disappeared the moment the other persona laid a hand upon her arm, gripping it firmer than he would have liked. The one in blue scolded Modesty as a mother would a child.

"What did I tell you?" the figure berated. "Do not ever leave me again. He found you first, when I would have rather him met me, or at least both of us together."

"Sigyn," he breathed, again not being able to help himself. They both turned toward him, the taller one frustrated, trying to put forward a better impression, and Modesty shrinking behind her.

"I am Fidelity," the bolder persona said. "Forgive me, my lord, it was my fault she was lost. We were quarreling before the storm and were separated."

Loki nodded, his hands shifting to clasp behind his back. "You know me, then?"

Fidelity nodded while Modesty looked on in curiosity still. "Then you must be the one I am looking for," he continued. "Sigyn must awaken."

The two manifestations looked at each other as if conferencing with themselves silently. Fidelity seemed to be the more commanding of the two, and it made Loki so curious as to near itching.

"We will serve," Fidelity answered at length. She turned to the ever quiet Modesty. "Come, so that we will not be separated again."

The two embraced and Loki was fascinated to watch them knit themselves together and become a single form. As it turned toward him, he could see the joining stitches. Most of the face was Fidelity, while a single eye was the gentle, childlike curiosity of Meekness. It was as if they were patchwork sewn together, and the sight was not as revolting as one might think; rather, it was endearing. It was Sigyn gathering herself up to go to him, and he saw the glimmer of the chain shackled to her wrist before it disappeared.

He held out his hand. She did not move to take it, and seemed to think in her hesitation. A light breeze seemed to blow through the little woodland, carrying on it a whispered laughter that made her close her eyes and cover her ears with a shudder. It set Loki on edge and he pulled roughly on the chain, forcing her to come to him. The moment she was in his arms was the moment he awoke out of his trance, back in his physical body.

She started, having been pulled out of her sleep. Loki blinked his eyes and rubbed away the last tendrils of the spirit dream. They turned to each other and he smiled almost snidely, looking down his nose as a man accomplished.

"Your Highness?" asked Sigyn, confused. "What...happened?"

"I brought you back," he answered simply. Her thoughts brushed against his, groping and disoriented. It was not of her own accord, the bending of her will toward him that he felt she did so. It was as if she was not aware how loud she was being when thinking to herself.

"Back," she finally spoke, sitting up in the bed. "From where?"

Fascinating. She didn't know? Loki tilted his head as he peered at her, his brow furrowed. He wondered what she remembered. She looked up at him in confusion. "What?" she asked, as if he had asked Sigyn a question she wanted repeated.

He blinked. She was acting strangely, and it worried him. He wondered if the separating of her entities had caused a rift in her mind.

"Stop it!" Sigyn snapped, holding her head in her hands. Loki gaped. "You're hurting my head with your curiosity."

Irritation and almost a sleepy confusion bumped at his own consciousness. The way she was looking at him was...wait.

"Sigyn," he began quietly, slowly realizing what was happening. "Can you hear my thoughts?"

Awareness slowly crept over her features and he felt as if she'd been unknowingly knocking at the door of his mind and suddenly stopped when she caught herself at it. Tentatively she reached out to him, turning her thought to him. There was a very pregnant pause.

"Can you hear mine?" she murmured so quietly he nearly had to strain to hear. He turned his attention toward her and brushed at her. He saw her – felt her – flinch back.

"I rather sense the direction your mood is, like a pathway. I don't know what you are thinking, as if we could have a conversation without words, no. But emotions and feelings blow through you like the wind, and my sense of it is as a weather vane," he at last responded.

A dark sense of satisfaction resounded through him as her depression and entrapment settled around her like the keening of a new widow. Loki steepled his fingers together as he relaxed into the chair. It went both ways, it seemed, her wish for honesty. She may not have been able to hide her emotions very well to begin with, and now her own thoughts were laid bare to him as if he had stripped away the blankets from the bed of her solace. The depth of her emotion against his mind was greater than the mere sad realization etched upon her face.

It was to Loki's great glee to know that she did try to school her features, then. Now that he understood the extent of every emotion she felt that he had not guessed before, it was as if she were wholly at his mercy and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. He felt her mind against his, almost trying to grip at him in warning. He looked at her cautiously and then let a full out devious smile jump onto his face.

"Do control yourself, Sigyn," he punctuated her name with false importance. "You'll have to learn how to curb the passions of your feeling. It wouldn't do to disrespect your future king, even with your thoughts."

"Look to your own temperament," Sigyn spat venomously. The pain of the force she was emoting was almost delicious, the acidity rolling into him like a wave of hate. Loki tisked, shaking his head, and he knew that she felt his amusement.

"You're such a beast," she bared the fangs of her soul. Ineffectively. It was a stroke to his vanity, instead.

"Yes," he purred charmingly, as if she had just called him the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He drank in her repulsion. "I know."

And with that, he rose and departed, closing the door behind him. He suddenly wanted to test his boundaries, the strength of their connection. Could he feel her emotions and not be there to see the satisfaction of his good work? He was filled with inexplicable delight as he leaned on the door frame, so much so that he put a finger to his mouth and set his teeth to the appendage to keep from fairly squealing in giddiness. Loki was suddenly reminded of a song he heard on Midgard and instantly fell in love with when it was first released and was thankful of the songwriter's birth. He walked down the hall, dancing with himself like a madman, preening and congratulating himself.

"It's so easy when I'm evil," he sang, putting a hand to his chest, the other in the air as he twirled himself, his boots tapping against the floor with the melody in his head. "This is the life for me, the devils tip their hats to me..."

* * *

Sigyn's recovery and the supposed cause of her sudden fainting was the talk of every washerwoman in Asgard. It was said that her ceaseless service to the king drove her to exhaustion and that she'd passed out while attending him. Lady Sigyn was well known in the courts of the Aesir for her tenacious loyalty to the royal family, and so it came as a rippling shock when it was rumored she had been released from service.

During that time, Loki had taken to studying the bond and gleefully tormenting the servant of his father. He learned that she indeed remembered nothing after the force that bound them together took hold of her. His observances became maniacal, fed by the madness of him wishing her always to know that he hated her. Hated that she was tied to him, hated that he could always feel her. At every waking moment, whether she was near him or not, she could feel the pulse of his abhorrence. The throb of his rancor followed her every where she went, whether she worked to appease him or no. Sigyn was fighting a losing battle to keep her sanity and was distracted in her attempt to settle her own affairs in her home when he came to visit one day.

"Sigyn," Loki lilted, drawing out her name in a sing-song voice as he came traipsing through the estate she held in Asgard. "Where are you?"

He opened the door to her study and found her. She was at a side table with her back to him, her movements jerky and erratic as she poured herself a glass of water from the decanter. His wolfish grin disappeared when she turned and it was as if the barrier between her mind and body had crumbled significantly. He could see Fidelity and Meekness in her tired eyes and the winds of her emotion were like a breeze. He could feel defeat, a soft wish to die and the slow creep of madness take hold of her mind.

"I am here, my lord," she replied. "At your service. Always at your service, the faithful one. Ever faithful Sigyn."

Sobriety struck him and Loki watched her unravel before his eyes. She started laughing. It was an empty sound, hollow as the madness was taking more of a hold. "Ever faithful Sigyn," she said again, as if it were the punchline of a well known joke. "Like a hunting hound or a trained falcon."

Loki felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as she suddenly broke the tumbler she had been drinking from, shards of glass glittering to the floor. There were some digging into her palm as she raised her fist, rivulets of fresh blood dripping. Loki leaped forward and took hold of her wrist. Immediately upon physical contact, he was assaulted by voices in his head.

_-can't stand me, why did I agree to help him? _

_I can't take it anymore! Please, mercy, let me die-_

It was her voice, a jumble of incoherent thoughts strung together in babble. He looked in her eyes, tears already spilling out from her sapphire orbs, and sobs tearing from her throat as her entire frame convulsed.

_Please, please please. Let go, let me do it. It won't hurt so bad..._

Loki was jarred at the fact he could actually hear what she was thinking. Why couldn't he hear it before?

_Let me go, leave me alone. Just let go!_

Loki was immediately seized with remorse. What could he do now to bring her back from the edge?

_Be merciful in your dealings with me. I've yet to even begin to help you, and you've set yourself upon me like a wolf. What have I done to incur such wrath? Please, whatever I've done. I won't do it anymore._

The voice of Meekness in his ear, pleading. Loki blinked. Her spirit was crying out to him, and he could hear her thoughts!

_Sigyn, I..._

Her trembling grew less and the hand that held the shards of her cup slackened in his grip. Her tears and blood still flowed freely. _You're just sorry I'm crying. You always hate when women cried. You __aren't really sorry__. _

It came as a blow from Mjolnir to his stomach, and it made him sick. Telepathy was apparently a thing only shared when they physically touched each other, and the brushing of their psyches were like vague whisperings of what they really thought. Sigyn had never struck him as a woman who felt so passionately about anything. He, like so many others, saw her as the obedient servant to his mother, studious as her apprentice in magic, dependable as a healer under Eir. She did everything that was expected of her, never spoke out of turn or raised her voice, like a proper noblewoman.

Loki suddenly released her and felt like he was falling backward, tumbling into a darkness. The sensation of falling and landing on his back startled him and he found himself back in the spirit plane. When his lungs could finally breathe air, he sat up and saw Fidelity and Meekness nearby, separated into their own entities again. He rose and turned to them.

"You do not yet understand this realm, yet you play with it as you would a new toy," Fidelity whispered. Her face was beaten and bruised, shreds of skin and burns lacing over her bare arms. Meekness was limp at her feet, her hair ragged and obscuring her face from him. She seemed...tortured within centimeters of her limit.

"What happened here?" he asked. Shrieking laughter carried on the wind, stronger and more hideous than what he had heard before.

"You walk in the world of spirits. It is not just those who would refine their art and attune themselves better to their souls who are here," Fidelity replied. "There are demons, too."

"Who did this?" Loki seethed quietly, the slow burn of indignation running through him. He reached out toward Meekness and she recoiled from him violently. Her hair shifted and he saw that her mouth was bleeding, her eyes blackened, and the skin of her neck horribly twisted by the gashes of knives and rope.

"A demon," Fidelity answered. "It tore us apart forcibly, took hold of her and...threw her down...he was merciless and I wrestled with him many days."

Cold. He felt colder than when he had first discovered he was of Jotun blood. So cold it burned him. "What demon?"

"The one called Hate."

The weight of what was happening was beginning to beat through him. The days he had used to torment Sigyn...what it was actually doing to her...what he had done. He felt he was going to vomit.

"This little woodland is our private place. Each spirit has their own. Yours has become closer in proximity because of our promise, and the boundaries between sanctuaries have been forcibly thrown down. You broke our gates. You let him in. We already had troubles of our own, and you let him in."

Fidelity's voice carried no malice, but the hammering of her cadence bore down into his skull. Her gaze was hard as iron as she willed Loki to be silent and still. But her focus changed to place itself on something behind him.

"Begone from this place. We've had enough," she commanded, though her tone was shaky.

An eyeless, bipedal beast with a dripping maw was smiling lasciviously as if it had found a new meal. Loki tensed and tried to turn toward it and get a fuller view when he felt the three fingered grip relentless on his head. Roots upon the ends of fingers bore down and grew with an alarming voracity.

"Who are you," Loki ground out, willing everything of himself to resist.

"Fear," it drawled as the vines snaked down to his neck, wrapping around his throat. Loki began to bark a laugh that ended up rasping horribly. He could see Fidelity's apprehension and knew she thought him mad.

"So, you're the demon Fear," Loki chortled. "Did you come here with Hate? Did you lay waste to Fidelity and Meekness?"

The beast laughed, tightening its grip. Fidelity suddenly held out a battered arm, wincing in the pain it caused her.

"He is not yours to contend with. This man is in the province of Hate. You commune with him, but this soul has not been given to you. Leave him be."

Loki felt the vines recede, unwinding from his form and he gasped for air. The demon was displeased, but remembered the consequences of crossing with his brother Hate. It groaned its discontent but went on its way, stomping between the trees.

"Thank you," Loki breathed, rubbing his throat, having fallen to his knees after they buckled. He had been truly gripped by fear and he would not walk away unchanged by the knowledge of what it really was.

"You allowed the battering of Meekness," Fidelity said. "I cannot trust you. You've done this to other souls, knowing full well what you were doing. But, you did not yet have eyes to see what truly was."

Silence. Fidelity frowned.

"We two are all you know of this soul. I have yet to lend my aid. You have yet to meet her and you would maim us with your treachery."

His senses prickled. Her? So there were more? "How would you help me? What must I do?" he choked.

Fidelity almost looked like an eternal judge through the blood on her face."Make amends. I can only be moved to call upon her when Meekness is whole, and feels at ease. You have much work to do, much to repair and learn. This is no game you can cheat and win, Trickster King."

* * *

Okay so that got really intense, really fast. A lot of information here. I really need feedback. Please, for the love of all that is holy, don't simply put me on your alerts or favorite list. I need to know what you think. Also, the song Loki was singing as he danced down the hallway was by Voltaire, called "When you're Evil".


	4. Dirge of Emptiness

IV

When Loki came to his body he found himself staring at the wood beams of a ceiling. His acute sensitivity to magic had left him open to the spirit world and unbidden, he had crossed into the plane. _I'm going to have to learn to control that,_ he thought to himself as he sat up, leaning back on his hands and taking several measured breaths to ease the frenzied beating of his heart.

"I could not perceive you," Sigyn said from her position against the wall. She had slumped, her hair tousled and her dress wrinkling. Her hand still bled, splintered with glass. The way she peered at him, her brow furrowed and her frown deep, allowed him to see the shifting shades of her eye color. He imagined Fidelity gathering up Meekness to bear them away, and the colors of their gown mingled as he looked into those windows.

"You were gone, for a time," she spoke again.

Loki took a steadying breath. "Do you...know where I went?" he asked, curiosity gnawing at him like a puppy would mouth at the hand of its master.

Sigyn seemed to think as she looked upon him. "To a place of enlightenment," she replied at length. "Your emotions have changed drastically since you took hold of me. I think you understand something, but I cannot press my finger to what that may be, or how you came by this understanding."

So she didn't know or remember. Loki nodded slowly, disquieted in his mind.

"What did you see?" asked Sigyn after a long silence. He could feel her unease and his own grew. He wasn't sure how to tell her or even if he should. Surely she would find out one way or another. The piercing of her perception could not be avoided. Better to tell her now.

"Sigyn do you remember any dreams or visions while you were sleeping in the healing rooms?"

Sigyn blinked, the furrowing of her brow growing deeper as she worked to remember. "No," she drew out. "I...had a dream that I was walking in a forest, but I wouldn't call that a vision of any importance...what significance could it have?"

"Did you meet anyone in the forest, or were you alone?"

"I was alone. I spent the entire dream just walking. I didn't know which way to go, and I didn't feel lost. I just...was there."

"Did it feel peaceful? As if you belonged there?"

"Actually," Sigyn nodded upon thought. "Yes. Yes, it felt familiar, even though I'd not seen the place before."

Loki leaned forward, clasping his hands together as he moved to sit in the lotus position, his gaze still upon her. "When was the last time you emptied your mind of all thought, and just concentrated on nothing? Have you not meditated before, as a student of magic?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "I..." she began. "No, I have not. There was always too much to consider and think about."

Loki drew nearer to her, quietly. Tentatively, he reached out for her bleeding hand and began to gently pull the shards of glass from her skin. Shyly he used his mind to speak to her.

_We are in a great deal of trouble, Sigyn, if we do not learn to harness this...new ability we seem to have._

Sigyn jerked back and nearly tore her hand from his as he gripped a piece of glass. It pierced his own skin and he grimaced, but Loki held her hand firm and pulled it back toward him.

_Do you mean...curse the fates...we...we can..._

"Stop trembling," he snapped, "you're only making the cut worse."

It was as if he were shouting at her, with the shared expression of his thoughts and spoken word. Sigyn had to take time to slow her breath from the overwhelming nature of revelations as they piled themselves one on top of another.

_I am inadequate to this task._

_Then you'd best learn quickly and catch up. _

Sigyn felt the surge of his own frustration and deficiency even as he fought to hold it back. His thoughts were jumbled and angry and yet there was a sorrow in him that quarreled with his irritation. It was a wonder to her that he hadn't gone insane from the restless tide of his ever changing feelings. Both sides were felt so keenly by him, and yet he couldn't settle on which one to pull to the forefront.

_There is nothing I can ever say or do to show you just how...deeply sorry I am. In my malice toward you I paid no heed to its effects or indeed how you bore it. My anger is not toward you, but I threw it your way endlessly like a spear. _

Loki finished pulling the glass out of her hand and pulled away, unable to bear speaking to her anymore with his thoughts. She made no move to continue the conversation and so they gazed at each other, drowning in the tides of their emotions.

"Truly, I can't hide from you," he finally whispered, the deep mourning of his soul very clear to her. The green of his eyes were as dark and tumultuous as the sea as he reflected upon himself in scorn, and yet he spilled no tears.

"Take heart, I can't hide from you either," Sigyn replied, her laugh hollow and mirthless.

There were so many things that Loki greatly wished he could change. He had always been a mischief maker, sometimes a little more devious in his intent, but in all of his playing he had not realized the slow decay of what he set his heart to. He looked back as a mountain climber would on the path he had walked. What had he become?

* * *

Life and politics wait for no one and the days that passed while Sigyn and Loki tempered their control of the new bond they shared were full of the tumult he knew would surround his rise to power. Asgard primped itself for Loki's ascension and he knew the Aesir watched him with a fearful eye even as they laid plans for their own protection. Rumors still flew about regarding Sigyn's fainting spell. The Aesir were relentless in their whisperings regarding the truth of what happened.

Feasts were held in honor of the Mischievous One, celebrating that he lived and was victorious. Loki had to laugh at the irony. They pretended joy when he knew they were apprehensive as one watches a poisonous snake slithering toward them. Perhaps they were right to. He had no idea what manner of king he would be, now that the crown was within his grasp.

At one such gathering, the announcement of his arrival to the feasting hall was heralded and the moment he appeared in his high collared silks and finery, there was a hushed 'ah' and a small applause. Loki bowed gallantly before he made his way down the steps into the celebration and found himself surrounded by the daughters of the gentry. He slipped into the mask of his charm, smiling at this girl, and daughter of such and such and lady so and so. Loki took no pleasure in knowing the nobles would send their women to him as lambs to a lion's den.

Guests were still arriving, and he paid no mind until he found himself wondering while he stood in the company of fluttering admirers. Would she come? She hadn't been to a feast in quite some time and had taken to avoiding public eye since he'd come back. Gently, almost in shyness, he turned his thoughts toward her and found that she was waiting for him. It was like blindly reaching out to someone and discovering they were closer than it seemed. He sensed her amusement, and then patience, as if she was laughing at him.

"Lady Sigyn, of Vanaheim,' the herald announced. Loki turned his head and let his appreciation of her presence waft as a gentle breeze to her senses. Since the day that they realized their telepathy, they avoided each other, and learned to reign in their heightened perception of each other. They could always feel each others presence, no matter their distance, but it was as two acquaintances passing each other on opposite sides of the street – no passing of feelings or emotions of greeting.

As she made her way down the stairs, lightly gathering her shimmering gown of blue in her recently healed hand to walk, he was struck as with a memory, and he wondered if she'd gone to the spirit world yet. For tonight, she was as Fidelity. Head held high, golden locks swept back and braided along her scalp and twisting to join behind her head. She too descended into a knot of women and they were not quiet in the flurry of rumor.

"Is it true what they say that you passed out?"

"Why did the king release you from service?"

"Will you still help Eir in the healing hall?"

They were swept away from each other in the sea of the gala and Loki imagined that he could see her eyes searching him out. She could feel him there, why was she looking for him? Obsessive nature was a part of him, and he knew she could sense his curiosity and tried to squash it quickly. There would be time enough later to find out.

As the night progressed, Loki noted the celebrations that usually took on the coarse tendency of bawdy drunkenness and loud jigs of the Aesir was lacking. The music was softer, more melodic, the dances more classical. It spoke of the tendencies of the Vanir, the people of his mother. A weight settled on his heart as he sipped his wine in her memory. _For you, Mother. I will mourn now in their manner and celebrate your life. _

"Your eyes are so sad, my lord," his companion in conversation softly spoke. Loki turned to her, the daughter of one of Odin's advisers whose name he had momentarily forgot. She looked up at him, her smile bright and perhaps too wide. She was trying to charm him back to the reality of the feast, pretending to divine his thoughts. He bent his perception toward her and knew it was false. He had to hold back his snort of derision in an effort to play along.

"A distant memory of days past my lady, forgive me. Shall we dance?" Loki replied, reminding himself that he had earned every right to the title Silvertongue. The dance they swept into was a slow waltz and Loki easily maneuvered them between couples.

A glimmer of familiar blue in the corner of his eye. Sigyn. Her gown was cut to twirl perfectly, and when it settled, it was a beautiful drape down to the floor, unlike some of the belled frocks the ladies wore that night. Her bodice bore no décor and buttoned up her back, and left her shoulders bare. She wore separate sleeves that fit close to her arms, like long gloves. Sigyn wore no jewelry or any other adornment in her hair, and what tendrils were not caught up in braids had softly come loose to frame her face.

"Ah, Lady Sigyn," his partner smiled. Dahl! That was her name, he remembered at last. Her dark bangs swept aside, to reveal impossibly blue eyes. "I see she's feeling much better. Poor thing must have worked herself into a coma."

"Hmm," was all he offered. He could feel Sigyn from across the room. No, she seemed to be pushing him away. Loki danced his way over to where she was and intentionally bumped her partner. Both couples stepped aside and bowed, curtsied. "Forgive me, sir," Loki answered, looking down his long nose at the man who danced with Sigyn, a lower ranking military officer trying to advance himself.

"Oh it is I who must be forgiven," the man smiled nervously. "I am clumsy, you see."

"Mind if I cut in?" Loki influenced the man's mind to leave Sigyn be and was obeyed immediately. Dahl frowned as the officer swept her away into the dance again, and quite frankly, Loki couldn't bring himself to give a damn about the happiness of that dull creature. The minute Sigyn's hand was in his, and his arm around her waist, they began their little talk.

_Can't even share your new toy?_ The slight frown of her mouth as she stared obstinately past him was infuriating.

_I hate being ignored, and he was stepping on your toes. Don't you dare push me away again._

Ah, her frown deepened, but only at the corner of her lips. Sigyn continued to look past him, but he could see the glitter of her eyes. It was not the gown of Meekness nor Fidelity he saw, as the shade grew darker like a stormy sea. Loki's obsessive nature crept up again and curiosity prickled at him. This was a new one, who was this?

_People are already talking about me, and I can feel you looking at me. If our oath is meant to be discreet, then you're doing a terrible job at keeping it that way. They're trying to court you, you're meant to be prowling for your future queen._

_Oooh Modesty, that wasn't your color._

Sigyn looked at him in confusion as the purr of his voice caressed her mind. "My lord, you are holding me too tightly," she whispered, her thoughts telling him that people were watching him closely. Loki loosened his arm a bit and let her move a way a little.

_Why do you never make any sense?_

_Because then I'd be predictable. And dead. _They broke away from each other as dictated by the waltz and she twirled about him, their bodies so close to making contact. Loki was suddenly keenly aware of how delightful their tie could be, if he chose it. She arose from her curtsey and again took his hand.

_Do you blame them for trying to protect themselves? For seeking your favor for their own good?_

His answer was a deep derision for everyone in that room. Her irritation was rising.

_You can't possibly tell me that you're not in the least bit attracted to the other women in this room, some of them past lovers even, or that their marriage to you would be beneficial to you in some way. _

_You don't strike me as a woman who would be content to the secrecy of night, to willingly become a hidden lover I would commune with._

Still obstinate against the unique situation they were in, Sigyn looked at him fully, her eyes still that dark color Loki had yet to meet. _You know what they think of me – that I am plain. I am not what they would expect you to favor. I merely give you the opportunity to seek what you would truly want._

There was a pause, and Loki let her feel his consideration of her suggestion. Sigyn pursed her lips lightly, growing impatient as he thought on it.

_No._

_What?_

_The Allfather meant for us to be bound as seeming lovers, and I'm quite sure he considered the implications. We could make this pleasant, you and I. I will not violate your sense of modesty simply because they would have me choose someone else._

The ripple of her shock reached to her very toes and Sigyn at least had the good sense to keep her mouth from gaping as she broke away from the enigma that was her liege lord to curtsey the end of the waltz. Her cheeks burned of their own accord and she could not will away the blush. His gaze upon her had grown slightly feral and almost hungry and it made her nervous. She got away from him as fast as she could, disappearing into the crowd for refreshment. The fragrance of her emotion stayed with Loki and wrapped around him like a delightful perfume. Revelation upon revelation. This was going to be very interesting.

* * *

Sigyn could not settle the fluttering her her spirit, even when she left the party and returned to her home. The events of the night left her perturbed and she barely let her maidservants prepare her for bed in her agitation. "Leave me," she said at last, unable to quell the rising questions in the tide of her mind.

Prince Loki had been acting rather strangely since her nervous breakdown. She'd been frightened, how close to the edge she found herself when he at last seemed to realize the state of her frazzled nerves. But tenderness was unusual for the son of Odin and it ate at her to know he understood something and that she did not. Indeed, Loki only ever displayed gentleness when in days past, Frigga wished peace for her son's jealous spirit and tried to sooth the raging fires of his heart. With that knowledge, Sigyn had endeavored to be like her, if only to protect herself from him. She had forced tranquility upon herself, in seeming forgetfulness of what had transpired between them and put on a face of peace, smoothing her physical appearance over as she attempted to do the same for her spirit.

Sigyn paced her room, deep in tumultuous thought. The fire in her chamber hearth that her servants had stirred for her crackled and snapped, casting a dance of shadows. Emotionally spent, Sigyn flopped ungracefully on her bed, not caring her hair was only half undone, or that she was still in her under dress and not yet in her nightgown. She laid against the pillows and stared into the fire, heaving a sigh.

A frown creased her mouth as she continued to think. Loki seemed to have access to information and would not say how he came by it, and behaved as if he was coming to understand the reasons behind her emotions. Surely, he had intuition of others, but he always used it to his own benefit. Was his seeming kindness false? It had to be. There had to be a plan, and Sigyn couldn't help but feel as if she'd been thrown into a gladiator pit without a weapon.

_Have you never meditated, as a student of magic?_ His words rang through her mind. Shame suddenly blanketed Sigyn as she realized how poor a student of the arts she'd been. Perhaps this was how he had come by his understanding, through meditation. Closing her eyes, Sigyn breathed deeply through her nose and exhaled slowly to prepare her mind and erase all thought.

Darkness surrounded her, and a fog drifted softly about her senses before lifting after a time. Sigyn opened her eyes to find herself at a great stone wall. Behind it was an ominous castle standing proudly despite the decay of its grandness. It seemed no one looked after its crumbling, to repair and restore the entropy of a sovereignty that had now slipped into forgotten legend. Sigyn walked beside the wall in search of an opening or gate.

After some time, Sigyn realized that there was no opening. There was no gate in, no doorway past the stone wall. The castle was completely surrounded on all sides by an impenetrable barrier. In frustrated realization, Sigyn pounded her fist against it and was shocked to see the stone ripple under her hand. Testing the facade again, the woman realized that if she set her palm to it and wished entry, the wall would give under her hand. Setting both hands against the imaginary stone, Sigyn pushed gently and passed through force of will.

Having passed through the barrier, Sigyn found herself in a great stone hall. Columns stood proudly like soldiers in the otherwise empty and unadorned chamber. To one side, raised on a dais at the other end of the hall was a great cauldron of fire, burning angrily. Centered on the platform was an obsidian throne, worn from great use it seemed. Sigyn hugged herself in protection of a passing chill as she softly stepped through the loneliness of this throne room.

"Well, well well," a hard voice resounded through the hall. A shadow to one side of the throne drank from a cup and threw the goblet into the cauldron, the fire leaping immediately. Sigyn drew herself up, having recognized the voice, and reminded herself of the promise she made in her heart to never tell him just how much she enjoyed hearing him speak.

"Look at you,' the voice purred, the tone dangerous in its pitch. "Just walking about as if you belonged here."

The shadow walked toward the cauldron, growing in height on the wall until a figure dressed in deep, opulent green and magnificent soft leathers appeared from behind a column. Loki smiled at her, deadly majestic in glory and terrible in his masculine beauty. He knew how he looked, and he clasped his hands behind his back as he descended from his dark chair.

"Now, who let _you_ in?" he asked, peering at her with a curiosity that made her skin prickle.

"I found my own way," she replied, feeling somehow bolder than she perhaps should.

The Imperious Loki raised his head and looked down his nose in calculative thought. "No one just finds their way in."

"Perhaps no one ever tried," Sigyn responded. "How lonely it must be in these ruins. How long have you lived here?"

There was a pause as he thought. "A very long time."

Sigyn allowed herself a small smile and Loki began to circle her, pacing as a lion would as he stalked a new meal. Somehow she didn't feel fear. At last he paused again. "You will do. The first servant of my kingdom."

Sigyn almost snorted. "I beg your pardon?"

"_KNEEL!" _he screamed, having turned from ascending to his throne. The entire hall shook from the might of his fury and yet Sigyn stood unperturbed by his command. Loki's nose flared and he approached her again, his entire frame tense and ready to strike. In preparation, Sigyn raised her hand but he caught it up quickly in an iron grip.

"Unhand me," Sigyn snarled, unwilling to back down now. Regardless of the outcome, whatever her fate, let it be said that she met it with courage. As she looked up at Loki she noticed that there seemed to be a strange joining under his nose that crossed his left cheek and dipped past his jaw. It glittered like an embroidery stitch. He was whole, and yet a part of something else. Still he held her fast and on impulse Sigyn pushed against him with all her might, surprising the both of them when he was sent flying to land unceremoniously at the foot of his throne.

Sigyn steadied herself and let her hand drift to her chest with a gasp to fill her lungs. She had just expelled a great energy as if she had cast a spell. Could that even be possible, that spells could be cast here? Implications whirled in her head. This had to be the spirit world. This castle...belonged to Loki. What did it all mean? She forced herself to drink in everything that she could, to further think on these things.

She looked up to see him laughing to himself, the chuckle deepening as if a great joke had been told. Sigyn covered her mouth in fascinated shock as the one form became two, standing to their feet and approaching her again. The regal one dressed in stately greens and leathers stood to her left, and a new Loki stood to her right. This one was dressed in bright finery as if prepared to go dancing and wooing. He looked at her with admiration and desire, his gaze piercing her and sending a shiver down her spine.

Lightening flashed throughout her being as understanding illuminated what she saw. Sigyn held her hand up and pointed to the Loki in emerald greens that attempted to seduce her with but a look. "Charm," she breathed. His smile widened in congratulatory pride.

Sigyn turned to the other dressed as a king poised for battle. "Power," she said at last, after some hesitation.

"She is keenly perceptive!" Charm laughed, the deep tones of his chuckle reverberating through the hall. "Ah, a delight to see such cleverness!"

"Are you not afraid, little Sigyn," Power asked, tilting his head, the strands of his dark hair brushing loosely against his temple. She considered a moment before squaring her jaw a bit.

"You aren't as mighty as you suppose," Sigyn replied boldly, truly wondering what danger there was. "What harm could come to me here?"

Power came closer to her, and Sigyn stepped back only to find Charm had flanked her, his grin wicked as his hands rested on her hips. Power took her chin firmly in but three fingers, the bright glaze in his eyes hard. His eyelids lowered, peering at her as through slits. His lips hovered over hers as if contemplating deeply his wish to plunder her mouth possessively while Charm held her fast.

"Oh, what harm there is," Power whispered, his breath ghosting across the soft skin of her lips. Sigyn willed herself to not tremble as she raised her hands to place on his chest.

"You...underestimate me, I think," Sigyn replied, displeased at the tremor of her own voice. Power smiled salaciously.

"Perhaps I do," he said. "I will enjoy your visits, Audacity."

* * *

There we go, some feel goods. I'll try to keep updating regularly, while I have a hold of what kind of direction this will go. And oh, it could go so many directions...


	5. Passion's Etude

V

_Etude (noun) – a musical composition, usually instrumental, intended mainly for the practice of some point of technique. A composition for a solo instrument, especially one designed for study._

Loki rubbed his temples as he walked down the corridor of the palace, having had enough of politics and the machinations of the Nine Realms to last him for quite awhile. It made him sick, to know that not just Asgard, but the rest of the universe would set their own leash to him. The Light Elves of Alfheim, who bore little weaponry of their own, had been in much conference with Odin, news of Loki's birthright disturbing their hearts. Even the Dwarves of Nidavellir harangued the Allfather, questioning whatever counsel he had taken to allow the arise of the evil star that was his son. And he that was discussed was also present at these meetings. The peoples of these realms were respectful and yet blatant with their fear.

And their solutions that would give peace to their troubled hearts were the hands of their daughters. Odin politely had taken their offers under suggestion but allowed Loki the final verdict, thank the stars. Loki was running out of room to protest, even as the forcefulness of his objections grew. They were relentless in their pursuit of him.

His spirit was restless. It had been a month since the oath taking in the night, and he had taken to quietly visiting Sigyn in her home. She seemed to be catching up on things she'd left undone, personal affairs and simple projects and chores that had been neglected while in the service of Odin and Eir. Each time he visited, she would offer him refreshment, a seat in her garden. Each evening he departed her estate, he felt less anxious. Loki found himself increasingly dependent upon her soft words, her gentle encouragement to make him feel...completely at ease in spite of his troubles. It was as if there were a shattered emptiness in his heart that she fit rather nicely into. It bothered Loki to no end, and yet relieved his mind all at once. That he could not settle on which he felt keenest further confused him.

When he knocked at the door to her home, a servant opened it with a scowl. Loki feigned lightness of mood, and pressed his luck. "Good afternoon, Britta. Is Sigyn at home?"

"She's here, and left instruction to show you to the garden should you visit," the servant Britta replied. Nearly every day for the last week, he'd come, and it seemed against her lady's better judgment, she let him associate with her. She lead Loki down the usual entrance hallway, then through the drawing room.

"Come, Britta, you don't like me," Loki continued, teasing the servant. "What troubles your heart? Tell me."

"And earn a place in the prisons? No thank you," Britta answered, the sting of her reply that he usually deflected settling over him. He was used to it, that no one would simply get past their fear of him. Even Sigyn bore her fear, though she tried so desperately to hide it from him.

He passed through the open double doors into the garden, where Britta left him to return indoors with a huff. Loki's smile was hollow and it did not reach his eyes. He clasped his hands together behind his back and walked through Sigyn's little garden, knowing and understanding why she was here most often. The hedges were trimmed tall so that she had privacy, and he was glad that it was taller than even his head. For her sake, he didn't need tongues wagging about his frequent visits. The breeze was soft, and the day was warm. Truly, one could find peace for the spirit here.

When he rounded a corner, he saw her under the tree, stretched along her wooden settee in repose. She'd been reading again, and had fallen asleep in her study. The breeze had pulled at some of the tendrils of her hair and they laid softly on her cheek. Loki couldn't help but smile as he looked upon her, and be sad. She was so peaceful, so at rest and unguarded. There was no tremor of emotion, no tide of feeling she fought to hold back from him. Indeed, she was deep in sleep, for he could not feel her consciousness as he usually did.

In that moment, Loki was moved to be selfish. It was expected of him, and perhaps it was underhanded. He sat at her side, brushing back a strand of her hair. Unconsciously, she leaned into his touch, sighing softly. Loki blinked, wondering for a moment what she dreamed. Could a woman like Sigyn ever come to dream of a wretch such as he?

She settled back into the pillow. No. No one would, could ever love him. But that wouldn't stop him from taking pleasure in a stolen moment not meant for him. Yes, Loki was very selfish. He leaned over her, pausing for only a moment before setting his lips upon hers. By all that was holy, she was softer than he had ever imagined. Her head turned, her spirit slowly pulling itself out of slumber and her mouth opened just enough for Loki to gain entry, his tongue dancing at the tip of hers, teasing her to wakefulness as he pulled her into his arms gently. Her thoughts were stirring, reminding him of one speaking in sleep.

_L...Loki..._

The dark demigod willed his heart to not leap. There was no way that she'd ever murmur his name so sweetly. Not verbally, not in her thoughts, and certainly not in her dreams. Loki set his teeth gently to her bottom lip pulling lightly as if coaxing her further out of slumber. Her hand moved from his chest to his shoulder and the moment was gone when he felt her thoughts freeze suddenly and her entire body tense up.

"My lord," she stammered, blinking away the dizziness of her eyes. Embarrassment. Loki's chuckle was more that what was stolen was his to forever treasure, rather than the flush of her cheek giving the truth of her emotion. Yet, his heart hardened in his chest again, realizing once more that because he was who he was and could not change, no one could ever love him.

_I couldn't help myself,_ he thought as he smiled at her sudden shyness, his arms still around her. Her thoughts tumbled together as she pushed him away and rose from the settee, and Loki caught a small snatch of her guilt. So, she had enjoyed it. Perhaps...perhaps she could be convinced to depart from her counsel that he should be chasing every other girl Asgard and the rest of the Nine Realms presented to him. Loki latched onto that thought and made it his life's work. Sigyn would be his, and he would set his will toward her giving herself freely. He would make her understand his need of her, disturbing to him as it was.

Sigyn had moved away and snatched up the book that had fallen from her grasp and made to move indoors, her speed and agitation of emotion brushing against him as she fled. Loki stood and followed her into her meager library. She stood at a side table when he came to the threshold of the room, forcing herself to be calmer of spirit. "Sigyn," he called softly and he knew the slip of sadness would reach her, and cursed his weakness yet again.

Sigyn lifted her head and took a steadying breath, her back still toward him. "You mistake my aversion, Your Highness," she replied. "I fear a great many things, but my trepidation of you has grown less. There are other things that worry me more."

Sigyn turned and Loki was suddenly overwhelmed by her apprehension. The revelation that it was not for him set him on a curious edge. "Do you know that the Vanir are gifted with foresight, my lord? The seeing and divining of events not yet come to pass?"

Loki swallowed. "What have you seen?"

Sigyn closed her eyes and lowered her head in shame. "That is what troubles me. I cannot see the future as my predecessors have."

The reverberation of the epiphany shocked the very core of his being. A Vanir that did not possess the one gift exclusive to that people? What then did this mean? Loki felt suddenly the need to sit, the weight of this new reality washing over him heavily. He steadied himself into a chair and looked to Sigyn expectantly. She began to pace, her arms wrapping around her in defense.

"The path that we are set upon branches off in so many different directions, at so many different junctions that I cannot see their ends. I do not see what manner of road it is, what lies across it, what terrain it would run through. No matter how hard I try to press my will to seeing it, I am unsuccessful. It's been this way since Odin-King..."

Sigyn stopped. She stilled her wanderings throughout the room, her arms fell to hang limply at her sides. She turned to face Loki and he could see inspiration on her face. Understanding. Excitement of discovery.

"It happened then, the shattering of the paths," she said at last. "When Odin-King announced your birthright of succession. Fate split, when you seized the opportunity you'd always reached for. You'd been destined to walk a path of being overshadowed by others, and providence always forced you back into your place when you fought it. This time, circumstance favored you. I cannot see the future because you have yet to choose which path you would walk. The tumultuous extremities of the passion in your heart force you to walk as on the edge of a knife. I cannot say which way you would fall...and I admit I am blind to which side I would plunge as well."

Loki was speechless. Whether unwittingly or with skill, Sigyn had spoken with authority in her knowledge of him. She had divined him with formidable accuracy and it made him feel naked. Whether he fought to cover himself with the comfort of a lie or no, she could see the truth. And she was gentle in her illuminations. Loki was coming to appreciate how carefully she chose her words when she spoke, even if she felt more intensely than she would give voice to.

Sigyn had seated herself on the couch near his chair. He wished she'd sat at the end nearer to him. Her head rested in her hand, her palm cradling her forehead. "Your visits to me have been not entirely secret. People watch you, Prince Loki, and I know you feel that. I know you come to me as a retreat from their stares. I've given much thought to your wish to court me. I know that you would maneuver me to be your wife. I cannot help but feel that I would only be a hindrance to the reputation that you must rebuild; my aid to you would be little, for my deficiencies of skill would make me a very poor queen. I say again that I am not what they want you to marry. You've always been one to be capricious. They would match you with someone to suit your temperament."

She turned to him with a fond smile that Loki knew could soften his heart, with proper and frequent application. "You are dashing," she said. "You are the opposite of what women in Asgard are told to be attracted to. You are charming, mysterious and you confound them with your enigmatic personality. They do not understand your allure but they feel it all the same, and that makes the Aesir afraid. They would tremble and swoon in your arms and hate themselves for their love of you."

Loki snorted and couldn't help but outright laugh. "No one would love me," he said finally.

Sigyn's face betrayed her thoughtfulness. "Perhaps given enough time, they would. You can be appealing and benevolent, when the mood strikes you."

Loki rested his head against two fingers that supported his temple. He was so tired of being a marionette to society, but it was expected of him to be a player in the stage of the worlds. A thought occurred to him, the unspoken continuation of a broken conversation. "Would you, Sigyn?"

There was a long pause in which he dreaded her answer, and he knew she was formulating one he would expect from her. Her response was not the one he looked for. "As servant, lover or friend?"

The way he looked at her nearly broke her heart and Sigyn could feel him crying out to her with his unspoken sentiments that she be all three. They looked at each other in long silence and simply experienced each other, fairly drowning in the depth of feeling that each other had; Sigyn with her overwhelming deficiencies and willing him to be strong despite her own misgivings, and Loki with the despising of his own vulnerability.

Britta opened the door and lead in a palace courier who gaped in his surprise as he handed Sigyn a letter after bowing in respect to both parties. "A letter of request from Odin-King, my lady," said the manservant, handing her a packet sealed by the Allfather's mark. Sigyn thanked him and broke the seal with a manicured finger after looking to Loki for excuse to interrupt their conversation.

The servant turned to his prince. "I didn't believe him, sir, but he told me I'd find you here," the courier stammered, ashamed of his admission. "I suppose I shouldn't doubt the Allfather when he reveals to a servant his presentiments."

The revelation of Odin's knowing his son's whereabouts was not lost on Sigyn, and the look she gave to Loki as she smoothed out the letter in her hand was as about as loud a _'told you so_' as he was going to get. Loki heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes.

"And what does the Allfather seek of me, that he sent you?" Loki asked in irritation.

"He wishes to speak to you on pressing matters, and he seemed most urgent my lord," said the servant. Loki fought to not roll his eyes again.

"I will go to him shortly," he replied, heaving another sigh in annoyance. The servant bowed and departed quickly, remembering the prince's short temper and had no wish to be turned into a snake or some other unpleasant thing.

Sigyn had finished her letter and Loki saw the glaze of stress already in her eyes. "I am to perform tomorrow night at the gala for the Princess of Alfheim," she answered his unspoken query. "The pianist they requested has taken ill."

Loki understood that Sigyn would need to prepare a piece, quickly practice it, find a dress suitable to perform in. He'd almost forgotten she was proficient in the arts of music, that her more favored instrument was the harpsichord and pianoforte, and that Princess Lyra of Alfhiem seemed to prefer those. Sigyn folded the letter and set it aside, looking to Britta who was still standing patiently nearby.

"Lady Eir has sent a message that she requires her books that you'd borrowed, my lady," the maidservant spoke. Sigyn immediately rose and went to her desk to stack three volumes together in compliance. Loki's brow furrowed when he saw the titles. _Understanding Essential Nature. A Study of the Psyche. The Truth of a Spirit: How to Perceive Character._ She gave them to her servant.

"Take these to Eir and give her my thanks," Sigyn said to Britta. "Tell Jetta on your way out that I must have my recital gown aired out and pressed. Be safe, Britta."

Loki rose as her maidservant departed. "Sigyn, just say no. Can you not be selfish, and cast away the distress?"

Sigyn felt his concern for her and smiled her sweetest. "I do what is expected of me. What am I, if not dependable?"

Loki's perception told him that the strength of her character was deeper than the shades she allowed anyone to see. The realization nearly drove him to his knees. She made to pass through the door to prepare for the fete, and he stopped her with a gentle touch to her wrist. Sigyn turned to him, questioning his sudden remorse.

_I am undeserving of your kindness and unworthy of your fealty._

Sigyn looked up at him, her heart almost breaking again at how lost he seemed to feel. His eye color drifted to the glassy sheen of a forest lake, soft and sad. On the impulse of comforting him, she raised a hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing his skin. The words she next spoke with her lips would have broken a lesser man.

"I know. I give them to you anyway."

* * *

Loki stood before his mirror as his servants prepared him for the feast. His discussion with Odin from the day before rang throughout his mind and gave him a sense of foreboding and imprisonment. His father's patience was growing wire thin and Loki still would give no answer to the incessant requests that he marry foreign daughters, or any daughter of state, for that matter. Odin-King had given him an ultimatum. There would be an assembly of court tomorrow afternoon. It mattered not who Loki chose, only that he would make a choice.

_These are but a small consequence of your treason against Jotunheim and Midgard. You cannot hide from judgment forever. Face your fate!_ Odin had bellowed. Yet even in his anger, the king had been sad. It was now too late to protect his son.

_Face your fate_, Loki thought to himself, smoothing out the high collared tunic he wore. If indeed he must, he will choose his partner in life. It seemed she'd already been chosen for him, even as he was given opportunity to reach for another.

With each passing day, Loki realized how well she suited him. They didn't exactly see eye to eye, and yet Loki was drawn to her more than any other. Sigyn was right. The Aesir knew her for her steadfast nature, yet for all her trustworthiness she seemed to them plain and uninteresting.

He stood at the other extremity in their sight. Dangerous, exciting, dark and necromantic. He was known to bewitch innocent daughters of court for his own pleasure, the pendulum of his attention swinging quickly to boredom when he'd had his fill. Loki sighed when he realized he was actually tired of seducing trembling virgins to his bed. When had he grown out of giving into his baser desires? A thought whispered to him that he hadn't, but that his tastes had changed, matured. A yearning to be known, learned, understood had grown within him. Loki wondered if Sigyn could be moved to love him. His heart rose to the dare. He would again challenge fate and bend it to his will.

A servant held up the soft leather short coat for him to put on. Loki slid into it easily and straightened it on his shoulders as the servant brushed away any errant debris, lifting his master's dark hair. Loki frowned, not having noticed how long his hair had become. He ordered the servant to bring him a leather thong to tie his hair back. When it was knotted at the nape of his neck, Loki nodded, satisfied with his appearance.

The party and its implication left Loki hollow. He celebrated Alfheim's princess, beautiful Lyra, but he could not bring himself to imagine her as his wife. The Elves were persistent in their suggestion and he favored her with expected praises but he knew with a certainty that she was not in his future. Lyra was at least a hundred years younger, her bearing girlish and her manner somewhat immature. She would not survive the darkness of his heart, he surmised as he looked upon the dark haired girl. He could see she'd been sheltered for a great part of her life. Perhaps one day she could make a man happy who was lighter of heart.

Loki took subtle, snatching glances down the banquet table every moment he could. Lyra didn't seem to notice, sitting at the head of the table next to him. The Elven penchant for merrymaking had blinded her to anything else but happiness.

The meal had ended and lingering platters of roast boar and venison dotted the tables. Sigyn sat near to the royal banquet table in a place of honor and yet trapped between Volstagg's loud carousing and Fandral's pompous drawl. Loki had to laugh at her misfortune, and he knew she could feel him commiserating.

She bore it well as she drank from her goblet to hide her boredom from Fandral. He was telling a battle story again that she'd heard many times before. This rendition made him more prominent than any she'd endured previous and she could tell he'd been refilling his cup a little too liberally. Loki raised an eyebrow when he saw her expression suddenly change from disinterest to a subtle distaste. Fandral had leaned an elbow on the table, seeming to suggest something with his smile. The God of Mischief took pride in his skill at reading lips and a flush of white hot anger passed through him when he realized Fandral was propositioning Lady Sigyn.

Her lips were dangerously thin and in a flash, the wine leaped from her goblet with a flick of her wrist. Fandral had closed his eyes just in time to save himself the burn of the fermented juice and he sputtered it from the corners of his mouth, reaching for a napkin to wipe his face. Sigyn had already risen from her chair, the scene ignored in the sea of bawdy celebration, and she took her leave to prepare her performance for the night. Volstagg noticed her empty seat too late and looked on Fandal as if he'd missed his mouth completely when emptying his cup.

Loki tried to bend his thought toward her when he felt the wall of her solitude pushing him away. She had to concentrate, and she had already whispered to the servant in charge of entertainment to announce her shortly. Loki took that as his cue to bring Lyra's attention to the platform nearby where a pianoforte stood ready.

"Oh, they told me the pianist was ill," Lyra almost clapped in her excitement. "Was that not true?"

"The Aesir wouldn't depend simply on a single musician to bring you joy, my lady," Loki charmed. Lyra's childlike blush deepened. "A special treat for you. Your taste for the ivory chords are not unknown to us."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court," the servant announced with a bow. "For your musical pleasure, our own Lady Sigyn has prepared a piece arranged specially for tonight's festivities. A uniting of tastes and cultures, in honor of Agard and Alfheim."

Sigyn ascended the steps and Loki sent her all his admiration. She was dressed in a gown of deep midnight that hung loosely about her shoulders, the sleeves coming to her elbows. The skirt was a little wider than was her usual style and it hid the curve of her hip from his sight. Her hair was piled in curls pinned closely to her head, a ribbon woven throughout until it was tied in a bow at the bottom of her coiffure. It was modest, and yet more ornate than he'd seen her wear publicly. Her curtsey was deep, her audience's applause polite and drunkenly unsure. She sat on the stool, adjusting her gown and he saw a small smile on her lips. He knew she could feel his encouragement as a soft touch to her cheek.

Sigyn tested the instrument's voice with a small ditty, a prelude of her arrangement. A smattering of applause came and went, when she was sure of her ability to properly bend melodies to her will. A pause, and Loki watched her take a deep breath and close her eyes, setting her slender fingers to the keys, coaxing music forth without the aid of written sheet music. In a slow tempo, she began with a song of Alfheim, a song happily praising the dawn. It was recognizable to the attending Elves and they softly clapped their appreciation. The applause died quickly when her cadence bent itself in the same tempo to a slow, grand melody that was a familiar theme of Asgard, a song of her imperial might. The two melodies interposed beautifully and the entire feasting hall fell in enraptured silence. No one had thought the two songs could be mingled together and come out to be so perfect.

Sigyn's posture was excellent. There was no dissonant note, and each movement purposeful and smooth. The imperial theme was stately and her arm was firmer in its depiction, before becoming gentle as she pulled the Elven song to the forefront. A third melody wove its way in, one Loki recognized as a song Frigga sang to him when he was a child. A lilting song about magic, its measure quicker than the other two themes and yet complimentary between them. Sigyn had arranged a melody of three songs from separate realms and was improvising its execution flawlessly. She paid homage to the Elven princess with a sweet song, bowed in fealty to her king with a song for the Aesir military, and blew a soft kiss on the wind to Loki's senses with a song that cautioned young Vanir children of the dangers of letting magic control them. To the others that listened, it was a perfect representation of the hope that Alfheim and Asgard could be united. The Vanir melody was not widely known.

All the while, her eyes were closed, lost in the zeal of her music. Loki leaned against the arm of the chair, hiding behind a few fingers that his lips were parted in surprise. He looked out on her audience and saw their astonishment as well. No one had expected Sigyn to reveal such spirited passion as she played, nor had they been prepared for her masterful command of music. Indeed it seemed no one truly knew Sigyn at all. Here before them was a woman who could bewitch the senses without a single word. This was power.

Lyra sat dumbfounded in a newly learned sobriety. Gently she reached for Loki's arm, never taking her eyes off Sigyn's performance. He leaned toward her so she could whisper. "Is this the lady I've heard rumor of, the servant of your father?"

Loki nodded wordlessly, pride radiating that he hoped Lyra could not feel. The Princess of Alfheim blinked. "Strange. She doesn't seem the fainting kind," she admitted, pulling away from him.

Loki hid his smile. No, perhaps Sigyn was not as delicate as she let on. It struck him in that moment that she was wearing a gown the shade of her spirit he had not met. He vowed to seek her out in the spirit world, adamantly if need be. She was revealing herself, and he would know her.

The merged melodies danced as a king and queen ruling together before the ending flourish. Sigyn's hands stilled over the ivory keys, still trembling somewhat from the pouring out of her emotions. She opened her eyes and stood to a thunderous applause, suddenly aware of every eye upon her and flushed with self-consciousness. But she curtsied deeply in grace and humility, her blush giving way to pleasure she could not hold back. She was glad she performed well, and that they were pleased with it.

Lyra had nearly leaped to her feet with ovation, everyone in the hall following suite. Loki had been slower and more pronounced with his praise of Sigyn's work, and winked impishly when he caught her eye.

After the festivities resumed, Lyra had turned to Loki, requesting vehemently to meet this woman who had performed. Sigyn had been cornered by nearly every noblewoman in the room, her social standing greatly elevated. The sea of sudden admirers parted immediately as Loki and Lyra made their way to her. Sigyn tried desperately to school her features and keep from laughing at the pairing that was not meant to be. Loki stood at least three heads taller than poor Lyra, whose stature was dwarfed when set against the lean prince of Asgard. Loki felt her amusement as he escorted the childlike princess, and his own lips twitched as he fought a self deprecating smile.

Sigyn set aside a goblet of water she'd been drinking from and curtsied before Lyra who had broken away from Loki in her excitement. "Your performance was wonderful!" Lyra fairly gushed praise. "From what realm do you hail? Are you one of the song weavers of my people?"

Sigyn rose with a gentle smile on her lips. Loki seemed to be laughing at her. She stood near a head and a half taller than the poor Elven princess herself. "I am of Vanaheim, my lady," she replied. "And I fear my aptitude to the arts of music and magic are not so great that I could be compared to a song weaver."

Loki took a step forward and nodded his head to Sigyn and she curtsied again, though not as deeply. The waves of his silent praise washed over her and they broke their brief eye contact. Exultation swept around her even as Sigyn was humbled by the mistaken thought that she could play a song with such skill as to give her audience the perfect vision of her intended story.

Lyra continued on in excitement. "You're an enchantress, then?" she asked. The women that had surrounded Sigyn cast curious glances and whispered to each other at the suggestion. They quieted for her answer, which came with some unease.

"I...silly parlor tricks, Your Grace," Sigyn admitted. Magic was not widely used in Asgard, and the more proficient users were regarded with some distrust, the leader among them their future king. Sigyn was apprehensive. No one knew her gift, and she had kept it that way. Few paid her any mind at all, how would they behave toward her if she suddenly made a display?

"Show me, please," the princess fairly begged, her gray eyes bright and so full of innocence. Loki sensed the corner Sigyn had been pushed into and offered to help.

"My lady Lyra," he began gently. "It is not a custom of Asgard to be proud of a skill that is not physical in nature. We are a nation of warriors and wielders of steel. Though unfortunate, we do not permit our sorcerers and enchantresses the luxury of high praise and honor as they would see in Alfheim or Vanaheim."

"But why?" Lyra asked, surprise evident in her guileless face. "It is true that those unwilling to discipline themselves in the art would be right to be untrusted. But it seems to me that you all know and trust Lady Sigyn. She has just displayed enormous control of her craft! Surely you could allow her _some_ indulgence."

The crowd of women around Sigyn remained hushed and watchful. Something settled over the room that spoke of shame on their part. Sigyn thought to herself. Having found her resolve, she beckoned to Lyra to hold out her hands. Gently and with some hesitation, Sigyn covered Lyra's upheld palms momentarily. When she drew her hands away, a plucked, unopened bud lay on the princess' skin.

Sigyn gently breathed on the bud and it unfurled, growing in size to stretch over the expanse of both Lyra's hands. A moon lily, a rumored favorite of the young princess. A pleased gasp from the Elf, and a quiet 'oooh' from the fuller crowd that gathered. An advanced beginner's trick, but it fulfilled its purpose. Loki smiled, casting a glance about him. There seemed to be no malice surrounding Sigyn or her display.

Lyra was so enamored of her gift, she looked up belatedly to express her thanks. Sigyn lightly touched her wrists. "May I?" the older woman asked with a smile. Princess Lyra openly offered the flower back, and Sigyn took it to set gently in her royal braid wound about with dark hair.

Having secured the lily in the princess' hair, Sigyn stepped back and curtsied again. When she rose, she looked to Loki, nearly begging permission to disappear. He granted it with a nod, and while the guests milled around Lyra to lavish praises of her youthful beauty, they seemed to ignore Sigyn entirely when she pushed her way through to leave. Loki smelled the light spell of forgetfulness, made more powerful by weaker will of those it was cast upon as well as the strong influence of drink.

* * *

Sigyn undressed herself for sleep that night, sending her maidservants home early. It had been a long day and wanted time alone. Something told her she'd have one more visit that night, however. She quickly made herself decent and set about unpinning her hair. Sigyn only had half the pins removed when she felt him in a dark corner in her room.

"You were expecting me," he stated, approaching her after a few moments of silence. Sigyn fought back a sigh of weary exasperation and smiled instead.

"Did you climb the trellis in my garden," she teased softly, already knowing he'd spirited himself there. His prowess with manipulating his surroundings was superb, far greater than her meager skill. The best she could do was willing herself to another place in the same room. She looked into the mirror when he said nothing, and stilled her hands in her hair. "My lord?"

Loki found himself utterly fascinated simply by the length of her hair as it trailed down her back. A sudden craving to be close to her, to run his fingers through her honeyed locks, to be ever more intimate with her shot through him like a rain of arrows. He looked at her reflection in the mirror as she returned his gaze with some concern. He made his way to stand behind her, laying his hand gently on her shoulder.

_I am to announce who I would have for wife tomorrow in Odin's court._

The weight of his burdened heart pressed on hers greatly. Sigyn hurt for him and reached to cover his hand with hers. She'd been thinking much on these things too. They stared at each other in the looking glass. Sigyn felt a smile tug at her lips when she realized he hadn't even finished changing his outfit before coming to see her. His high collar was unbuttoned, his hair unbound and a little mussed as if he'd frequently run his hand through it in deep reflection.

_Who would you have, Loki?_ Sigyn abandoned all pretense of decorum, since she was a woman in her dressing gown with a man in her bedroom. Her familiarity with him seemed to put him at ease anyway, and she felt his fingers against her scalp, finding the rest of the pins that bound her hair and untying the ribbon wound throughout.

_One who perhaps knows me best. One I couldn't hide from even if I wanted...one who can calm me with but a word from her lips. One who rightly fears power and does not want it._

Sigyn immediately rose and moved away from him, robbing Loki of the soft fragrance of her skin. "Beware, my prince," she warned, her back toward him. "You speak as one infatuated, bordering on lovesick."

"Perhaps you are right," Loki replied. He felt as if he were at the edge of a cliff, with nothing but an endless plunge below. He took a deep breath before leaping off the precipice.

"I have considered my options, and the taste is bitter in my mouth. When I think of anyone but you at my side, I feel increasingly anxious of my future. I cannot abide the very thought of anyone else being my wife. Either they would revel too greedily in the power and bring me down with them, or I would destroy them with my hate. Perhaps it is the power of the oath clouding my mind. You are a thorn splintered in my heart, and removing it now would force me to bleed in my spirit unto death."

Sigyn was frightened by his confessions. She knew they'd be stuck with each other but assumed he'd find some sort of spiritual loophole, a dark part of his heart that would allow him to be at ease and remorseless of having another as his wife. What was this madness he was speaking? She turned to face him, surprise evident on her face even as it radiated from her spirit.

"I come to you now to tell you my choice, Sigyn," Loki continued. "I would have you in marriage. I would choose you as Queen of Asgard. You would do better than most presented to me, I think. But before I announce my decision I seek your word. I would not force this on you, bound as we are. If we marry, it would seem for security of politics. Affairs of state would force events to pass faster than I would like. I would have no time to court your affection, as you deserve. I know you dislike deception even if it is unintended, and I understand your apprehension of how people perceive you. It is why you display meekness and fidelity most often. But Sigyn, you are a hypocrite to hide from Asgard your greatness. I need you. All of you."

The burden of her own heart settled like a lead weight on her as he spoke. Indeed, she had been a hypocrite. To be the goddess of her word, only to hide from those who trusted her. Loki watched as her nose itched and her eyes burned from unspent tears. She suddenly lifted her head, forcing back her sorrow.

"I will not have illusions as to my position," Sigyn answered, her eyes deepening to the turbulence of a midnight storm. "You speak of marriage, and belated courting, and yet I am a splinter left to fester. I will go where you lead, lend you my strength as you need it. But I will not enter into this marriage thinking myself greater than my true worth. I do not ask you to court me or give me love you would rather withhold. Do not pamper vanity that is not there."

_There she is_, thought Loki. He'd drawn out that side of her and yet didn't know how to take hold of it to keep her there. And so he strode over to her, meaning to do the only thing he knew how. She mistook his intent and raised her hand to ready some sort of defense. Loki took hold of her wrist and held it fast, feeling vaguely that he'd somehow held her like this before. Dismissing the instance as impossible, he descended upon her mouth with the thirst of a dying man to an oasis spring. His voracity and her shock let them stumble over to the wall where he pinned her firmly, continuing his ungentle ministrations.

They warred each other for dominance and Loki was delighted her instinct took over even as coherent thought fled her mind. Through the haze of passion he felt her fingers tangling through his hair. She bit him, and the pain was his pleasure as he growled into her mouth. He never thought she'd be so delicious, tasting her past the wine she'd been drinking that night. At last he needed to breathe, and he pulled away blinking past the stars behind his eyes. Oh he hadn't had those in a long time, and from a simply a kiss.

_You're just full of surprises tonight, Sigyn._ He looked down at her bruised lips, unable to focus on anything else, that taste of her on his mind.

_I...curse whatever came over me. I'm sorry._

_Don't ever be sorry. That was what I sought. I want it, even the things you'd rather hide. I want you, Sigyn. Please, let me have everything that you are. I swear to you that what I see is beautiful and tempting exquisite. _

Loki couldn't take it anymore and fell upon her lips again, driving all thought from her mind. This time he was slower, deeper, searching for the answer he wanted. He took hold of her tongue and pulled, Sigyn's slow moan enticing the fire in his belly further. When she opened her eyes again they were dazed, and she gasped for air.

_I will lay siege to every fiber of your being until you give me the answer I want, Sigyn. _

_Mercy, Loki! _Sigyn physically put her hand over his mouth to save herself. The mischief in his eyes was playful and yet haunting. _You already know I cannot withstand you._

_Will you let me court you? I would not have you unhappily married against your will. _

_You mean to say that wasn't the point of your assault on my senses?_

Sigyn could almost see Charm's emerald silks in the sparkle of Loki's eyes. There was desire there, and a devouring need that fed on his soul. It sent a thrill to her very core and it took every ounce of her will to not throw herself at him like a wanton courtesan. She wanted more, and he knew it. Her fingers still covered his lips and he rested his forehead against hers.

_I want more of you Sigyn. I know I put things badly, act on impulse and even strike out in anger but our fates are entwined tighter than the cords of a thread. I cannot separate myself from you, not now. You fascinate me, and I belong to you as much as you belong to me. Perhaps our oath forced us together, but I wouldn't have it any other way. _

_I will be your wife, Loki. As fearful as I am of a future I cannot see, I know that my people are blessed beyond the measure of most in the Nine Realms. I will walk a path blindly if you will walk it with me. _

Loki sighed in relief as her hand fell away and hovered over her lips, not realizing he'd been holding his breath in anticipation of her answer this entire time. He caressed her face gently and suddenly felt the urge to thank her and assure her she would not regret her choice. Softly, he kissed her again, smiling against her skin when he felt her tongue massage his lips.

_Teach me, Sigyn. Teach me to please you. I would win you, wholly. _

_Patience, Loki. Be patient with me._

Patience was not Loki's virtue, if indeed there was any virtue in him. Already, he was lost in Sigyn's embrace, oblivious to everything except her lips on his. The fire of his passionate heart was fueled by her touch, her soft sighs and the caressing dance of their very souls. Their spirits were communing, and Loki reveled in all of it. It was completely different than any other affair he'd had, and it made him feel as if he perhaps wasn't the cold hearted bastard he always thought himself to be. And then he realized that he was charging into the romance as quickly as he always had. Loki pulled away from her again and looked down on Sigyn as they fought for air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. She laughed and caressed his face. Loki lowered herself himself to one knee and laid his head on her bosom, slowing his breath. Sigyn smoothed back his hair and he was comforted by her touch that became an absent-minded habit.

"You always were quick to chase a skirt," she murmured wryly. Loki opened his eyes and drew away enough to look at her.

"I know you think you're just another woman I've set my eye on," he said. Her tremor of worry was like the note of a song elongated too far. "That I'll get bored, like I always have."

Sigyn did not reply. He knew her thoughts, and it was useless to deny them. Even if she set her heart to do as he asked, the fear of rejection would hang over her her head like a sword on a rope. Her lips pursed and trembled as she fought her doubt.

"Our lives aren't going to be easy," Loki continued, his hands at her waist, looking her in the eye, words coming to him as if already prepared. "Our difficulties will be compounded by obligations to the realm. But I swear on my life, Sigyn, I will endeavor to honor your loyalty with loyalty."

She touched his face again and parted her lips to speak. He could see her mouth move, but whatever she said never reached his ears. Had he suddenly gone deaf? What was happening? His entire body tensed up and he closed his eyes tightly only to open them and see he was in a forest clearing.

He was kneeling before an intricately crafted throne of mahogany. On it, sat a regal vision of beauty. It was a manifestation of Sigyn, and she seemed more commanding than Meekness or Fidelity. Her form was more appealing, her curves fuller and her face shapely. Her eyes were closed and she sat in the throne as if in a spell sleep. Her gown was like a starry night sky, beautiful deep blue silk that accentuated her pale skin, the bodice cut to allow dangerous desires. On her head was a golden crown fashioned to be wings folding back along her head from her temples.

Loki yearned deeply. There she was, the Sigyn that hid from him and all of Asgard. She was before him, and yet how to awaken her? Loki reached to touch a hand draped over the edge of the armrest.

"_STOP!"_

Loki turned abruptly to see Fidelity standing on an embankment above the dell. Her gown was less fine than he'd seen before, and her hair was unbound to hang loosely over her shoulders. She gathered the skirt of her dress and she made her way down to him.

"Once awakened fully, she is not easily put to rest again, and there are pieces joined together with her not easily separated as Meekness and I. You will see things perhaps you would rather not."

Loki looked back on the queenly incarnation. Power radiated, even from her inanimate state. Her eyes were closed in a manner that made him wonder if she'd forced herself to sleep or if she'd been made to. Were there a frown on her lips, it would match the dark furrow of her brow.

"Who is she? What pieces are joined? I would know them all."

Fidelity frowned. "She is called Passion. Knit inseparable are Valor, Power, Jealousy, Mercy, Vanity, Grace..."

"I want all of it," he interrupted, still looking on the woman enthroned.

"You ask for that which has been hidden away for a long time," Fidelity replied after a long silence. "Is this truly what you want?"

"I seek my equal," Loki answered, after a measure of thought, regarding Fidelity while still on his knees. "I would have her be my counterpart."

There was a breeze that drifted through the glade, a force that set him on edge. It blew at Fidelity's hair as she spoke, a resolute finality to her words. "So be it, then."

The breeze blew stronger and Loki turned back to the woman on the throne. Breath left his lungs when he realized she was awake, looking on him with a gaze that sent a tremor through his very core. The intensity made him nearly quake. She could see everything there was to him, she knew all his darkest secrets. And it did not strike him that she was very pleased at all.

"Oath-breaker," Passion hissed, the words a curse upon her lips. It was like a searing brand through his senses. Loki lowered his head in shame. He could not deny his sins and was suddenly afraid his judgment was nigh.

"You would bind yourself to me. You would awaken me when you do not know the extent of my power."

He couldn't look her in the eye again. Still kneeling before her, Loki nodded, fearing his voice would betray the despair in his soul. Whatever darkness was in his future, he couldn't face it alone.

Loki felt her breath on his hair when she leaned forward. "You are a foolish man," Passion said. Loki nodded again. There was a pause that was so long and quiet he took a chance in looking up at the queen on her thorned throne.

Passion's eyes were mixed with mirth and a gentle care. Mercy, Grace...they flashed before him like phantom masks over her face. Loki unconsciously licked his lips, drawn to her even more knowing what lay within. An overwhelming desire to set his lips to hers came over him, and he hadn't realized he'd let himself drift so close to her until he felt her fingers massaging his scalp, her lips hovering over his.

In a flash, her touch became the grip of a vice, having taken hold of his hair tightly. Her eyes were a hard glint, and her lips a sneer. Loki understood that he was in no position to do anything but obey.

"I will hold you to your word, rogue."

As to seal their agreement, Passion feasted upon his lips in dominance of his spirit. Loki realized now that even as he would be perhaps the most powerful king Asgard had yet to be ruled by, he would be nothing without this spirit that ravaged him now. And, if her awakened form was thus, how delightful his thrall to her would be.

* * *

Seriously? Over a thousand views to my story, and not even a tenth of that number in feedback? I'm giving you my blood, sweat and tears guys, what's a girl gotta do to get some lovin' around here?!


	6. Waltz of Wills

I'm working hard on each chapter as I can, and being inspired by instrumental music and soundtracks is helping. You can help too, by reviewing...or I might just go nuts. :D

VI

Sigyn couldn't control her fidgeting. She wriggled her fingers when she forced her arms to her sides as she walked through the corridors and when they weren't wriggling she was tapping her fingers together and nearly wringing her hands at her waist. She'd fallen asleep against the wall the night before, waiting for Loki to return to himself. She had tried to tell him she'd wait, that she could be stronger most could give her credit for. It was as if he had suddenly passed out and she caught his body, cradled his head on her lap. Perhaps he had come back after she fell asleep, because when she awoke the next morning, disheveled and still in her dressing gown, he was gone completely.

Sigyn wondered what had happened. She guessed that he'd been pulled to the spirit world. Why was he being forced there when her visits were willing and on her terms? Was he avoiding something by not venturing there on his own will? Questions spun about in her mind and gave her headaches that she set frequent healing spells to. They never went away. Sigyn pondered on asking Loki these things and then thought the better of it. He was a private man, and had a great many things he had no wish to disclose. She had the good sense to not press him when he grew uncomfortable and reticent around her, his oath to truth like a burn. Best to give him time.

Court had already assembled and she was among the stragglers. Sigyn looked on the sea of courtiers with an unseemly snort of derision. Nearly every suitable woman that Loki could possibly choose from wore some shade of green that day, as if wearing his colors gave them a right to be in the running for his marriage. It had been expected that all would seek his favor.

A smirk played at Sigyn's lips. Loki was right – she was a hypocrite. The hairpins that held her hair bound closely to her head were tipped with emerald flowers, her only bid in the great race that no one would notice. She had purposely worn her carmine velvet gown that day, one she'd gotten on impulse that she'd never let out of her wardrobe. The tailor's wife had been after her to get something other than the shades she favored and had complimented her deeply when she held the fabric up to her form. She'd regretted it every day until now.

Sigyn settled herself between noblemen who moved aside when they felt her presence, and yet did not look at her. She had been used to that for some time, even as a handmaiden to the late queen. Sigyn took a deep breath with the understanding that everything that she'd come to be content with was going to change. Events were going to pass that would render ignoring her useless and disrespectful. What set the seed of fear in her heart was the understanding that she, Sigyn, would have to bend herself to the wind of the storm that was Loki of Asgard. How far would it be required of her, to bend?

He was already addressing the court, having refused the hand of the daughters of Nidaviller and Alfheim. The Dwarven king looked increasingly displeased, and the King of Alfheim seemed to almost be torn between gladness his daughter was not in danger, and apprehension there was no shackle that would settle the Prince of Asgard.

"Let none say that I did not consider my choices," Loki was saying, as he stood on the stairs to Odin-King's throne. "I wrestled with them. But I would not wish on Lyra the troubles she would bear as my wife, and mother to my nation. And as stout a heart the dwarven princess may have, her stubborn nature would collide too harshly with mine, my lord. She and I would kill each other before the wedding banquet. It is not with disrespect that I decline, but with a thought to the future, and a care toward your daughters."

Sigyn knew he would not be able to see her, but his bearing seemed almost to change when she knew he could feel her presence. Shoulders squared just slightly, his posture straightened almost imperceptibly. He was bracing himself. He was going to perform, to show all of Asgard and the Nine Realms what sort of future they should look to. And she was going to have to play along. Many people would only believe things they see instead of promised words and beautifully scripted speeches. Sigyn pressed her lips together. Loki wasn't going to make this easy, but it was necessary.

"Indeed, I am not unaware of the expectation that I marry. By law it secures my right to the throne, and the future of my line. But I ask you, the Court of Odin, who would you give me?" Loki turned with a sweeping gesture that was only half mocking. "I have paid some price to my siege of Midgard. You all know the rage of my spirit when I attacked Jotunheim, for their boldness. Who among you would marry a monster?"

So that was his plan. He would play on their fears, drum up the image they feared. Sigyn looked about her. Consternation was setting in as the daughters of court thought about what dangerous game they would seek to play. Fans fluttered in their distress and hid the downward curves of their mouths and the whisperings of their lips to each other.

"Who among you would offer yourselves as a watchful eye over the sorcerer in the night? Everything that you fear, the nightmares that make you anxious – multiply those tenfold and perhaps you will begin to understand me. Do not mistake my insatiable lust, the hunger of my desires for flesh. My wife will be called upon to fulfill her duty every night, be assured. But do not illusion yourselves for a moment that will be your only duty."

Blushes flew across every woman's face, and a glower over every man's. Everyone knew Loki was scandalous, but it pricked their delicate sensibilities that he brought it out in the open. Sigyn sighed. She hated the complex maneuvering of court and had tried to keep out of it as much as she could. And here she was, about to dive headfirst into it.

"By all means, the Queen of Asgard will be given her due of fineries. But it will seem poor recompense. I promise you harshness. I promise you all of my hate, for indeed I would despise you. I vow that you will know the bitter, dark reaches of my heart. All you need to do is offer yourself to me. Throw yourself in the hurricane, drown yourself in the depths, cut your own wrist and offer it up. I will laugh. I will take it, and dance on the bloody altar of your sacrifice. I will be the savage king you've always feared, and she who would be my wife the bloodstained shroud of my wounded corpse."

Loki was holding out his hand, having descended from the stairs, daring any woman to take him up on his offer. Though dramatic and jarring, his words were truth. The future of any woman who sought the glory of monarchy was bleak. Yet everyone knew his penchant for theatrics, how many would truly take this to heart and believe his words? No one stepped forward.

Loki smirked, knowing he'd twisted the knife of truth in. He couldn't say anything else, not with her in the great chamber. Whether they believed him or not, he'd spoken that which they never looked for in him, and the manner he spoke suited him fully. _Yes, Asgard. Be afraid of me, the monster that watches you sleep. _He let his extended hand drop to his side and he turned on his heel to ascend the stairs and go to Odin's side. Perhaps he'd been too dramatic. He'd thought he'd pulled out that side of her last night, after his little talk with Fidelity and Passion. Maybe she'd changed her mind. It had been too much to hope for after all that she'd gain control of dormant courage so quickly.

But then, the court gasped behind him. Loki paused, setting his ear to listen and relish all that he heard in the ripple of shock in his wake. _What is that fool thinking? Who is it? No, not her! Who is that? He's cast a spell over her, to wish death._

Loki turned, a thoughtful pose with his hands clasped behind his back. So, she'd allowed the dramatic pause for effect, to let his words sink in. She was standing on the long carpet that separated the courtiers on each side of the chamber and something strange happened to his heart. It wanted to pull out of his chest and go to her. He frowned.

She was wearing red. He'd never seen the color on her and the significance of her choice and the connotations of it were astounding. Sigyn was always purposeful in her words, or lack thereof. Loki had never known her to be sensational in her conveyance of anything. She was now following his lead in a dance she'd never taken part before, and yet she knew the intricacies of each step. The only thing he could think of as he looked on her now was blood. She would sacrifice herself, everything she was. The splinter in his heart twinged.

"Lady Sigyn," Loki intoned, his voice reverberating throughout the hall. He turned his head to look up at his father, whose expression was unreadable in the one good eye. Loki turned back to look at her. "Would you address the court?"

"It seems, my lord," Sigyn replied after a pause, "that it is the wish of the Nine Realms for your heart to change. This is why you are offered up the women of court. It is our hope that in marriage you would find some way to return to your former glory, before your madness and disappearance."

Loki stepped down from the stairs again, the thud of his boots punctuating his words. "You speak things that everyone knows. Why do you present yourself now, you who never had any desire for attention? Did you think that your quiet heart would suddenly call to mine and that I would run to you? That contentment would suddenly wash over me in your presence?"

The burn of shame swept over her cheeks and Sigyn lowered her head. She knew this wouldn't be easy, but the claws of his ridicule still tore at her. His satire was for the court, so they could mock her. She hated him for it. Would this mark their binding forever? Would she always have to simply bear his contempt, and the scorn of everyone around them? Was she truly a fool to think he would do anything else? Her heart was lead in her chest from the weight of despair.

"Hope is not for me," Loki continued. "I've fallen too far to achieve anything other than my current lot. Simply having patience and goodness and faith will not be enough, and you are a fool to think it could be."

He turned again when Sigyn did not answer. She was too busy trying not to cry from the awkward situation she was in, forcing herself not to run and hide. Something whispered at her mind. Fool she may be called, but she reached for the one arrow in her quiver. She did not know what her fate truly was, but it had to be greater than the paltry role she'd allowed herself to grow accustomed to.

"Frigga did."

Bulls-eye. Loki paused in his stride. The court rippled in their murmurings. Her voice had been so soft, none but Loki and those who stood near to her heard it. Those who hadn't heard suddenly pressed forward, a fresh interest in Sigyn growing. Just like her courage.

"You were still imprisoned when she passed. But she died still believing that you had integrity, however hard you buried it. It is necessary that you return to your virtue, my lord, and we all wish for it. Yet we none of us were brought up to sacrifice anything or willingly choose a difficult path for ourselves. We hesitate to carry out our wish for you."

Loki turned, the frown plainly on his face and it reached his eyes. What was she doing? Why was she telling him this, giving him memory of the only woman he ever truly loved? Did she think she could somehow emulate Frigga, fashion herself to be like his mother? He'd seen her other sides, and wondered how they would all culminate. Would Sigyn ever truly be herself, and what would that look like?

"You put a grim painting to the canvas of the future, my lord prince," she continued. "But I do not think that is the only future possible. It cannot be. You ask us who would marry you. I say I would."

The court nearly drowned itself in their gasp of their surprise. Loki was pleasantly surprised to see that Sigyn could speak so well in public. And she didn't bat an eye or turn her head even when courtiers openly speculated if she'd gone completely insane. He stepped nearer to her, seeking to cement her resolve.

"Why?" he asked. The court would need a reason. If Sigyn were to be queen, her claim would need to be absolute, uncontested. Simply not having an opponent would not be enough.

"I am a child of Vanaheim, the daughter of Her Highness, Lady Freyr," Sigyn replied, and he noted the slight upward tilt to her chin. So, she did have pride. "I come from a line blessed by foresight, and I challenge the future you depict."

"And what future do you see?" Loki wondered if she'd suddenly happened upon her ability she had recently revealed to him she wasn't able to tap into, when he awakened Passion. He suddenly burned to know her answer.

"A future of your own making, one I would help you seek my lord. If you would have me."

He was almost disappointed by her ambiguous response. So she hadn't found her talent. But her answer set the court ablaze with shock and gossip. Sigyn, gentle Sigyn, was offering herself to the man who terrified Asgard the most. It was delicious. He loved this kind of drama. He stepped closer and took her chin in his hand, a smirk on his lips. He would stroke the fire of gossip. Her own lips thinned and the shade of her eyes shifted dangerously.

_What do you think you're doing?_

Her voice was a hiss in his mind. He could feel her pulse quickening, her emotions of fear rising even as she took hold of it to stamp it back down. Annoyance, impatience replaced it. She hated this and he was drawing it out.

_Shall I not reveal my attraction to you?_

There was a small twitch at her lips and she glared at him, and he knew she hated him in that moment. He relished it, his chuckle deep in her consciousness. _Ye merry gods of Asgard, look at how beautiful my wife is. Even in your anger I want you._

Sigyn moved slightly to pull her chin from his grip and he tightened his hold. He was enjoying this too much, now that he saw the fire of her defiance. _You always want a contender to your will, to make show of your power. Everything is for you, Loki. They already think me mad. So be it, make your display but get it over with!_

The kiss was shallow and yet dominant. He wanted the court to know he was attracted to her. Whether it was to her body or her heritage, he would let them guess. They would know soon enough, if he ever decided to reveal his secret. Loki had to pull back after he felt the sharp pain of her teeth on his mouth, to keep from deepening the kiss. The look in her eyes was warning, and he let her win that round.

"Allfather," Loki said, turning to Odin-King on his throne, not missing the last part of the exasperated eye roll the old man made. He ignored it. "See before you one who would suit me. I announce my choice, I would take Sigyn Freyrsdottir of Vanaheim as my wife. Let her be the queen of Asgard."

Odin turned his eye toward Sigyn, whose hands had clasped before her to control the tide of her emotion. She was unsettled he could tell, and yet she was bearing his son's antics already very well.

"By whose counsel do you speak, Sigyn? And do you make this choice freely? Indeed the sacrifice Loki spoke of, however dramatically, is truthful to those who would bear the duty of leading a realm."

"I took my own counsel, my lord king," Sigyn answered, curtseying. She did not take her eyes off her monarch however. "I understand the duty I set myself to and choose it willingly."

"Stand before me, both of you."

Loki offered her his hand and she grudgingly took it. With glee he realized she'd be great fun, and her slashing retort of anger did nothing to sober him. Odin's decree and announcement of preparations for her becoming crown princess, and the reality of their fate did that for her.

_Do you really think there is any good in me left?_

Sigyn did not look at him, pretended to give her attention to the Allfather as he spoke. _Yes. I will find it in you, and bring it to the surface. _

_How?_

_...I don't know._

* * *

Loki had been almost forced to be separated from Sigyn the days after his announcement. Her time was suddenly taken up completely with the transfer of her living space to the palace. All her personal belongings in transit, the rearranging of her chambers, the retaining of servants and adding of more, along with new instruction of her impending station. Her time was suddenly not hers to give him, and even his quiet messages sent to her were unanswered. Loki felt as if a part of him had been severed and removed, and he hated it.

He paced his rooms one day dwelling so intently on these things, he mistook the servant who had announced someone as a visitor as a bearer of a message. When he turned, the servant was gone, and lips crashed against his, unchaste and roving and insistent. Arms were thrown about his neck in a manner he suddenly very distinctly remembered as her trait. Someone who was exceeding bold to come to him, now of all times. He took hold of her arms and wrenched them away from his body, the thought of returning her brazen kiss sickening him. This was unusual, these feelings he had now.

"Ylva," Loki said, in an attempt to stop her from returning to her wantonness. "Why are you here?"

His most recent lover, before his imprisonment. She stood before him in a rosy silk gown, smelling of a perfume he used to like. She wore so much it stank in his nose. Her bodice was too tight, the corset strung to amplify the heaving of her bosom from her exertion and force of her kiss. Her blue eyes were dark and tumultuous with her passion and it laced across his senses along with an uncomfortable burning sensation he'd never had before. Revulsion. She was looking at him in hazy confusion. He'd never spurned her before.

"I've just returned from the countryside. The city is buzzing with your name on their lips! You are to be king!"

Oh, so that's why she'd flown to him. Loki stepped away from her, furthering her confused frown. She advanced on him again and he pinned her arms to her sides. "Did they not also speak another name, the woman who is to be my wife?"

"Since when did marital duty ever bother you?" Ylva asked, shaking her head, her platinum curls bobbing in her hairstyle. "You knew the law, when did you start caring about it?"

She reached for him again and he stepped away further. "You presumptuous little peacock. You have no rights to me."

The tinge of anger flushed her cheek. "Don't I? You seemed to reinforce the idea of your rights on me the last time you took me, and in a dark corner I might add."

"That was before I was made to understand quite a few things," Loki spat back. "Before the Allfather threw me in prison. Where was your face and fragrance then, Ylva? If you truly wanted me, why didn't you visit?"

"And how did you want me to throw myself upon you, should I have been unclothed against the transparency of your cell? To let the other prisoners watch as I pleasured myself for you?" Her tone was icy and cruel. "You never wanted me to seek you out before, you made that clear. That you never let me come to you, or give you womanly affection never bothered you before."

"Well it _bothers me now_!" he raised his voice in agitation, and wondered why he even tried. Ylva was one of his least constrained lovers, the one who matched his passion most. But looking back on all their trysts, he realized she was simply the most whorish. Her painted lips, the rouge on her face. All of it was fake. That she came to him now of all times seemed hollow and predatory. He wouldn't stand for it, and for the sake of Sigyn's pride and honor, he would expel her from his life. He owed her that courtesy.

Ylva spoke again once the shock that he'd actually shouted at her wore off. "So you'll go through with it."

"Things are at play you cannot even begin to imagine. I will proceed to plan."

"And you won't even allow me to visit in secret? After you're married, I mean. She doesn't strike me as the kind of woman that would please your tastes."

Loki admitted to himself with some shame that his nature had been somewhat perverse when he'd happened on Ylva. The things she'd let him do to her was almost making him cringe now that he thought about it. And the things that Ylva had done to him were just as rank. They'd been like animals, giving in readily to their desires. And she'd been engaged to be married when it happened.

"I'll learn to adapt," he answered, quieter. No, Sigyn did not strike him as one to allow such wickedness, but he'd been surprised by her before. The dance they'd begun was tenuous at best, but Loki would coax from her the shy smiles and steal kisses in the hope that she'd return them. In Passion, perhaps, he would find his soul's mate.

"Adapt," Ylva snorted. "Adapt to her? That's like telling a dwarf to drink water. Adapt. You honestly think you can change, and so drastically? That girl is so..boring. I give you not even to the betrothal feasts. You'll send word for me."

Loki's eyes narrowed, taking offense on Sigyn's behalf. She'd proved herself enough to him and he knew he had only seen a sliver of her nature. "You seem self-assured that I cannot. And_ that girl_ as you call her is a woman who rose to a challenge no one else in court would dare even sniff at when presented to them."

"I would have, too, if you offered it."

"No you wouldn't. And you didn't. You weren't there, Ylva. You never were. When I pushed you away, you never pushed back. You never stood up to me, and matching my fervor in bed doesn't count."

Indignation on her face melted away into confused hurt. In that moment every complement he'd ever given her had been counted for nothing. Everything she thought they had was a lie. He was good at that, and she'd lied to herself thinking it was anything different.

"So this is it, then?"

"I'm afraid so. As pleasant our little affair was, I don't want it back. Goodbye, Ylva, and do not come to me again."

When Ylva left at last, a weight settled on Loki's heart. Everything that he was would be like a knife to Sigyn. His affairs, his desires, his very character. She struck him as too fine to be wasted on him, and she'd made up her mind in public to be bound to him. Briefly, he wondered how she felt. He wondered what he meant to her, if anything other than a dagger in her back.


	7. A Series of Serendipitous Events

Alright kids, you've stuck with me this long. Have some feel goods, and understand there's a reason this is rated M. Also, I've realized I haven't made a disclaimer (it's fan fiction, you wouldn't think you NEED one, for god's sake, but whatever). So here it is: I don't own these characters. I'm not making money on this. Also, please review. Kthnxbai.

VII

Sigyn had set aside time in her afternoon, cleared her schedule for this. It had been nearly a fortnight since Odin had announced that she would ascend to be crown princess of Asgard, and despite his advisers and other courtiers insisting she stay in the palace and learn the intricacies of her new position, Sigyn had to leave the gilded halls and closed doors behind for at least a while.

She needed to release pent up energy that she'd ignored as it built within. It had been a long time since she'd practiced her art, and what she'd expelled from her physical form for Lyra at the feast not long ago was not enough. The energy bounced within her, and it was making her jittery. She needed balance, and sought to settle herself. She needed to learn to control it better.

And so, in obedience to a streak of rebellion, Sigyn went out in trousers, tunic and boots outside the city. She made for the ruined pantheon of a temple long disused, a remnant of when Midgard and Asgard were joined by a deeper tie of worship and benevolent godhood. It was not needed now, in a time when the Allfather's name was no longer whispered reverently, when Frigga's grace was no longer called upon. The gods of yore were gone from Midgard, and yet they watched over it still.

It was the perfect place. Away from the city, the public. It was a wide space, and there was no ceiling. The walk helped stretch her muscles, and yet Sigyn still prepared for her own training. She stretched out her arms, before bringing one across her chest, using her hand to pull it further just slightly, and then the other. She leaned back, taking a deep breath as she stretched backward. With a graceful motion, she stretched her arms forward and bent at the waist, touching her toes.

When her stretches were over, Sigyn extended her arms again, spreading them far as if in greeting of a gentle breeze. Her mind focused on the energy within and it was bent to her will. A gentle flame appeared in a hand cupped to hold it, and it danced for her above her skin. She wiggled her fingers a bit and it sprang up further, jumping from palm to palm. It felt good to release this energy. It was like dipping into a cool stream in relief of a hot day.

Even as Sigyn held control over the power, she let it consume her thoughts. She danced with it, physically and in her spirit. She closed her eyes, and spun about lost in the music of a melody no one else heard but her. The flame wound about her, elongating like a whip and twisting with her motion. She pulled it into a sphere after a time, larger than her hand and let it roll to the back of her hand, up her arm and across her shoulders over her back. So lost was she in the rhythm of her magic she did not hear her visitor.

Loki stepped over broken stones with a light tread and perched himself on a crumbling pillar, his eye ever on her. He'd caught wind that Sigyn had left the palace earlier that day, and took his chance. He hadn't seen her, been near to her soft spirit in so long. He felt raw, chaffed. He had followed the sudden thrum of magic that called to him like a wolf following a trail. With bitter irony he looked upon her affinity to fire, knowing in every way she was his opposite. Even so, she was beautiful in her freedom, her movements graceful and flowing.

"Most impressive, Fire-Dancer," he said quietly when she'd called away her flame. "What other spells can you summon?"

Sigyn turned toward him with some guilt at being caught in her training. The sun lit her flushed skin, the fine sheen of perspiration shimmering across her forehead and temples. Some wisps of her hair had come free of the braid wound about the crown of her head and clung damply to her cheek. She paused to slow her breath. "Not many, my lord," she replied.

"Show me," Loki insisted. "Can you call to water?"

Sigyn pursed her lips, extending two fingers before her and flicked her wrist in an upward motion. The stone floor of the temple grew dark, a stream of water falling and marking the ground, greedily going to the soft earth below.

"Ice?"

Her fingers spread apart and her hand raised a bit. The shimmer of the ground changed silver blue where the water had struck, a slim, serpentine trail of ice ending at the foot of the column he sat upon. She kept her gaze on his, and they regarded each other quietly.

"Lightening."

Sigyn finally spoke. "I was never able to harness it, Your Highness. It requires an authority of fire in a more compact form than I can master."

Loki lowered himself from his seat, his next words level and more assured than he truly felt. "Come Sigyn, we know each other you and I. Call me by my given name."

Her eyes fell from his face to study cracks in the stone floor long etched by time. "Do we know each other so well?"

"Do we not?" He murmured.

He was so near her now she could smell the leather of his surcoat, the wind in his hair and the sweet smell of grass on the breath of that breeze. There was another scent, one singular to him that she could not define. She could only guess it was his essence, the aura of his magic, the incense of his soul. It was more refined than simply the fragrance of his physical body, and deeper in its notes. It was dark, and caressed her senses and invited her to be lost within it. She was very aware that his power would swallow hers easily, but that was not the only thing that set a shiver down her spine.

His hand was upon her face, his fingers long enough to span past her ear. His thumb caressed the skin of her cheek drifting lower to run along the edge of her bottom lip. The look in his eyes was contemplative and soft, lost in his own thoughts and yet still considering the bending of his lips to her mouth. But he brushed it aside even as his finger caressed her.

_I think you have more in you than even you know._

_I think you consider me more than I am, as others do._

_I think you're used to hiding what you really are, Sigyn. I would help you attain your peak. _

There was a strange light in her eye that sprang through momentarily. It brought a smile to Loki's lips, a true smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes. It was the merging of Fidelity and Passion that he saw. Meekness, while a dear little thing, was less and less, and he found he preferred her that way.

_Turn around._

_What?_ She blinked and frowned.

_Turn around. Spread your feet to brace yourself. I will teach you a little._

She obeyed with some hesitation and he angled her stance gently with his boots. "Posture," Loki said, and she straightened with a purse of her lips, lifting her chin to focus ahead.

Her body was so very near his, her fragrance drifting around him. Her head barely came past his chin, and the scented oils in her hair complimented the aroma of her spirit. Gently he put his hands on her abdomen and it was with delight that he realized she wore no other layers beneath the tunic. The feel of her supple skin underneath was a sudden drug to his senses and he fought to overcome the rush of desire. She felt it too, and stiffened, holding her breath. He felt her fear and uncertainty.

_Are you afraid of me?_

_Should I not be?_

There was a pause, and his lips contorted in anger even as another emotion swelled up. A dark sorrow painted the words he spoke next.

_Please. Do not fear me. Everybody else fears me...not my bride._

The quiet plea washed over her spirit and it overwhelmed Sigyn to know he felt so alone. Even after the things he'd done in the utter passion of his feeling, the fact that he was seen as a beast of legend to be warned against branded his heart forever. That he'd referenced her in such a manner of longing hope made her ache terribly for him.

_Never my bride._

It came as a choking sob from his soul even as Loki endeavored to force it back and hide it from her. Sigyn placed her hands over his gently, her tense stance softening.

_I am sorry, Loki. Truly. I fail you completely, as I never know how to respond to you._

The soft press of his lips against her shoulder was his only response as he took a breath and swallowed hard, the bitter drink of the moment going with it. When he raised his head again, he'd emerged from the pain victorious, if marked. His hands were still at her abdomen, their hold somewhat tightened.

_Choose a target. _

Sigyn took a breath to steady herself and looked to a worn statue, the face utterly distorted by the elements and the flow of time. _There. _

_Find your mark. Where would you strike?_

Sigyn raised a hand, pointing at the center of the face, where an indentation of rock was hollowed out, the spot where once had been a carved nose. It was above her head, the statue on a pedestal that came up to her waist. Loki chuckled.

_Should I beware that your target is a monument to the god of thunder himself? _

_I...hadn't...you told me to choose..._

The vibration of his chuckle deepened in his chest and he pressed his lips against her ear. Loki could not but relish the feel of her so near to him, the quiet intensity that roiled within her. The slender stature of her physical body belied the power he felt humming through her body, the magic racing with her blood along her veins. Indeed, he'd chosen well.

Loki moved his hands along her skin, encircling her waist. His hands were large enough that he could enclose her completely, his thumbs touching each other at the small of her back, his middle fingers coming together across her navel. She fit him in that manner. What other ways could she fit, he wondered.

Her hand was raised still, waiting for his instruction. _Fire is within you. It comes from a deep place, and must be pulled together in order to be made more solid than a flame. Press it together, Sigyn, and throw it to that statue. _

His hands suddenly pressed upon her, coiling tightly and he slid up her ribs ungently, forcing her to call to the spell in an example of what it should be. She gasped and felt the magic rushing up her body through her extended arm. Between her fingers an electricity crackled and the force with which it leaped away from her nearly pulled her along with it. One of her feet slid forward, unbalancing her stance. Lightening shot toward the statue and missed the head completely, landing on a column behind, leaving a cracked and smoldering trail across the once smooth stone.

_There, what do you think of that?_

He was pleased, even if she missed. Sigyn did not generate the spell alone and she well knew it, and she couldn't understand why he was so satisfied.

_A happy accident._

_I merely forced it to the surface. It was you who bore it out. You simply need to practice your aim._

His lips brushed her ear again and they parted to catch her skin up into a soft nibble. Sigyn was hypersensitive in the aftermath of casting such a stimulating spell and the soft grazing of his teeth on her earlobe was like another shock of lightening across her body and down to her core. She could not stifle the moan that escaped her lips. She was suddenly aware that he was pressing his body against hers, and another electric shiver passed over her when she felt the entire length of his body...all of him.

_Practice, Sigyn. Try again._

Through the haze of his seduction of her senses, Sigyn struggled as one would walk through a bog. His breath was on her, and he did not move to release her.

_I cannot focus with you breathing down my neck._

Loki's laugh was one of satisfaction, for it was made clear that he could bend her will to his. He gently set his open mouth to her neck, a vampirical urge to set his teeth deeply into her skin warring within him. Her soft sigh almost pushed him to it, and instead he let his tongue travel over to that delightful pulse at her neck, the tell she could not hide of her emotion. It was further quickened under his tongue as he laved at it, tasting her sweat and smelling the spiked perfume of her spirit and emotion mingling. Control over himself was becoming harder and harder to take hold of, his desire to have her and see how many sighs and hoarse moanings he could pull from her lips pressing against him like a storm.

Reluctantly Loki released her from his grip and stepped away, his body and spirit fiercely protesting being robbed of her against him. She seemed to protest too, and he did not miss the quiet whine of her voice when he moved.

"Perhaps your mark was too high. Choose another target," Loki smiled, casting his favorite spell. Several copies of himself appeared all around her, their smiles mimicking his with the predatory leer he wore. They moved, circling about and Sigyn stepped forward.

She could always tell one copy from another, and discern the copy from the real thing. But she'd never actually looked at the copies in order to decipher how they were projected and made. Loki's spell was ever like a phantom, standing before her and yet always out of reach. It suddenly struck her has she looked at one of his copies while it wavered and steadied, that the spell was a projection of the will. A desire, a wish, a dream. Something that he wanted to be, but was not. Her mind worked furiously at the equation of how to replicate the incantation as she looked on the copies of him in study.

It had been a long time since she'd bent her mind in learning of magic and yet it came easily to her like an old habit. Sigyn reached a finger out to one of the copies and softly tapped it over the heart. The copy rippled under her finger where she'd touched it, but otherwise remained solid. Surprise shot her eyebrows up nearly to her hairline, and her mouth flew open with a gasp.

"You did it! You made it real! A technique to perfect, but it is a solid copy, Loki!"

Her exultation that he'd mastered a spell swept over him like a wave, and he was not expecting her true pleasure and pride for him. Loki let himself swim in her praises as she fairly bubbled. Were she any younger than her thousand years, Loki thought she would almost clap her hands together and jump up and down in her joyful outburst. Her pleasure became his pleasure and pride.

The copy grinned and placed a finger to her mouth, settling between the teeth of her smile. Playfully she pushed the copy away and it faltered and disappeared. Another copy went to her and reached for her and she pushed it away too, with a delighted laugh. Another form reached for her and Sigyn pressed the palms of both her hands against his chest. It did not ripple under her touch. Sigyn couldn't help but laugh as he maneuvered her against a nearby pillar, pressing her against it with as much purpose as he had the night he'd come to her chamber. All other copies disappeared, and it was only he that she perceived.

She sighed into his kiss and then gasped when it became deeper, more frenzied and possessive. Loki's hand was behind her neck, angling her head backward so he could drink of her more deeply. She was quickly becoming his favorite drink, a wine more heady than any he'd had before, and sweeter in its indulgence. Roughly he took hold of her thigh and he lifted her with a practiced strength.

Immediately she clutched at his shoulders, her whimper of surprise swallowed in his feral growl. Loki slid her up the pillar, pulling closer to her. Her one leg wrapped around him at the waist, her other pinned underneath him as he held her against the stone. His lips moved to attack her throat, nipping dangerously and his thoughts swirling about her like an angry hurricane.

_...delicious...I want more...can't get enough...gods, you taste so good..._

The power of his lust nearly swept her away and Sigyn clung to him for dear life. Her hands tangled in his dark hair and she realized almost too late that she felt the same way. She liked this, his passion pulled at hers and it almost frightened her to know that her own force of feeling matched his.

_Loki. Loki!_

His name uttered by her spirit in his mind was like the mad prayer of a priestess lost in the adulation of worship. But there was a note in it, buried underneath the desperation of desire. It made him pause. Loki slowed his ministrations and caught his breath, letting her slide back to the ground. She opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion, her breath hitching in her lungs. He was rushing things again, and he didn't want that pace to give her a false sense of what he really wanted. Yes, he wanted her. Oh, how he wanted her, but the prize was so much greater than her simply giving in to him.

"Come back to the palace, Sigyn," Loki breathed, his thoughts still a gale storm. "Come back with me."

"Was that your errand? To fetch me back?" she asked, her confusion deepening, and her displeasure replacing rapture. Truly, he had an odd way of doing things.

A smile crinkled the corner of his mouth, knowing she'd left for a reason. He hated his father's advisers too, no matter how well they seemed to mean for Asgard. "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do, Sigyn."

Sigyn rolled her eyes and Loki almost laughed at her frustration. "Are we not heathen gods, Loki? Are we not characterized to do whatever we please?"

She pushed at him in an effort to move away, but his arms folded further around her and did not relent to her will. Loki smiled upon her devilishly, his thoughts having settled enough to allow coherency.

_And what would please you, Sigyn?_

A vision of her laid out on the stone floor of the temple, emblazoned with the flush of heated fornication crashed through her senses. To be beneath him, writhing, screaming his name and begging for fulfillment and release as he tormented her with his own body before finally giving in to his own carnal desires. To be full to the brim with him, pushed over the edge and falling with him on the wave of ecstasy. In that moment, she knew that's what she wanted. She had been very nearly ready to give it. She shook herself out of the daze of the vision, unsure whether it was her own or his that he presented to her.

Sigyn pushed away from him again. He still did not relent, and the flush of her cheek was no longer that of desire and lust. Shame crept over her, though the reason for it surprised her and she wasn't ready to tell him yet. He found out anyway.

_You are yet unknown, are you not?_

She knew exactly what he meant. The burn of her cheek deepened and she suddenly wished she was not still untouched, and that she'd broken from the expectation of her to remain so until her wedding night. Anger that he'd pulled her passion to the surface so unexpectedly, and defiance against what she was colored her words.

_I am not ignorant of what passes between two lovers. One cannot be a healer in the service of Eir and be a fool._

Loki's smile tightened until it could no longer be called a smile. His brow was furrowed as he considered her.

_I do not call you a fool. You may know what passes between lovers, and still have virtue. Being physically whole in body and yet sinful in mind is no cause for your shame. In fact, I think it makes you more appealing. Knowing you are untouched and yet so eager interests me greatly. I wonder what you shall try to illicit my own pleasure. _

The electricity under her skin was back, racing toward her sensitive places. Sigyn had prepared herself for his derision, for him to know that she lacked experience and have the expectation that she was near useless to his own satisfaction. Her lips parted when she looked up to the sparkling depths of his emerald eyes. They were bright, and there was something also in them that she could not name. Or perhaps, she did not have the courage to.

Before she could make answer, Loki put her hands in his, and there was a warm tenderness to his touch. Sigyn blinked, and uncertainty trembled in her again. His spirit seemed vastly calmer than a mere few moments ago.

_Come away to the palace with me, Sigyn. Please?_

She lowered her eyes in defeat, a disappointed sigh escaping her lips. She didn't want to, but at such a gentle behest from him, it seemed she truly had no choice. His thumb caressed the back of her hand and a smile tugged at his lips once again.

_Will I see you tonight? Please let me see you?_

It was the quiet pleading of a young lover wanting to court his lady. To take what time he could, to simply be with her and near her. Whatever frosted her heart from him melted and Sigyn nodded, the warm relief of his smile on her and soon followed by a gentle kiss on her lips.

* * *

When Sigyn returned to her chambers, she splashed her face from the basin at the side table in her bedchamber. Servants were already set to work choosing a new gown for her to wear and setting themselves about the task of filling her bath and warming it. They were interrupted with the announcement of a visitor to Sigyn in her sitting room. Sigyn was drying her face still when she went to her door to the other chamber. She cast the towel aside suddenly, not caring if it was caught up by a servant or not.

"Mother," she breathed, rushing to the older woman whose arms were outstretched. Neither of them cared that Sigyn stank of sweat and exertion, or that she was inappropriately dressed to receive such a lofty guest. Freyr loved her daughter and kissed her hairline, patting her head and embracing her tightly. It had been a long time since they'd seen each other and there was much to speak of.

"When did you arrive? Have you seen the Allfather yet?"

Freyr chuckled and kissed Sigyn's forehead again. "This afternoon. I've just come from his hall. I'm told you ran from the palace. Did you scream as you fled Odin's counselors?"

"They are a scheming lot," Sigyn huffed, sitting on a long, stuffed sofa with her mother. Servants rushed to bring refreshment and poured a light wine for each of them. "I do not like them. They keep telling me what I should expect as crown princess and queen, shoving books and teachers of propriety at me."

"Do you not wish to learn, my love?"

"It's not like magic or history or Latin, mother. I do not think knowledge or wisdom of rule will come to me from the pages of an old book or the instruction and expectation of someone who hasn't truly been in that position."

"Truly, my daughter's judgment is sound! I am glad you ran from them. Indeed, you'll have to learn as you proceed. I see that it is true, the rumors that have reached my ears, that you will be wife to Loki and queen to the Aesir."

Sigyn had taken a longer drought of her cup than intended. When she swallowed her wine she realized it wasn't strong enough to take the edge of her apprehension off. She leaned against the back of the couch, her elbow resting against it and her hand supporting her head. She looked to her mother, pleading for something, any kind of advice.

"What troubles you, Sigyn," Freyr asked, aching for her daughter's fearing heart.

"It seems as a match made in heaven, Mother," Sigyn replied. "All the Nine Realms look to Loki as a menace, and here am I, a Vanir who would guide him."

"Truly fortuitous," Freyr nodded. "But?"

Sigyn heaved a sigh. "I do not have the gift required of me that he needs."

"My dear, foresight is not the only gift to the Vanir. Exceeding affinity to magic, whatever kind, is strong within our people."

Sigyn frowned. "That affinity perhaps saved me, but I haven't practiced it. I feel as if I am required to be something I am not."

Freyr was perturbed. It wasn't like Sigyn to speak so morosely. Saved. Saved from what? As if to answer her question, Sigyn took another gulp of her wine and recounted all that she remembered of the oath-taking and the events of her walking in the spirit world. She shared with her mother the things that she perceived of Loki, all millions of confusing things that she seemed unable to piece together.

"So you were bound to him before he publicly chose you," Freyr mused. Sigyn nodded. "I am glad it was not blood magic that tied you to him, Sigyn. The consequences of your feelings of inadequacy coming to fruition would have been seated deeply in death of the most grotesque kind."

"And a soul oath is somehow different?"

"Very. Where a blood oath's end is bathed in physical death upon its breaking, a soul oath is born and ended in life. Your vow to perceive for Loki what he cannot must be upheld. If your word is broken, you will find that your very spirit will rot away. His destruction will be yours, and he meant for you to help him live. If you fail him, your soul will wither. You will live on, though you will not wish to."

"That is why lovers take the oath," Sigyn realized bitterly. "Because once it is broken and the other is gone, there is no more will to live."

Silence stretched between Freyr and her daughter as Sigyn wrestled with the understanding of what she had done. Her heart despaired yet again and not for the last time, as she fell upon Freyr's shoulder and wept. Freyr pulled her closer and tried vainly to comfort her daughter with a soft embrace.

"He does not love me, mother," Sigyn finally choked out, her sob stifling the words she wrung from her lips. "He did not when we took the oath and he most likely never will."

"Shh, my heart," Freyr soothed, her hands rubbing circles over Sigyn's back. "The oath was meant to be taken by two who already love each other, but it deepens the tie for them. It will work in your favor if you do not fight it."

Sobriety and understanding struck Sigyn and she pulled away, trying to calm herself. Tears spilled across her cheeks and she could not stop their tide. "Mother...how did...how did you fall in love with Iwaldi? How did you know he loved you?"

Freyr smoothed back Sigyn's hair and smiled. Sigyn already knew the story of Iwaldi and Freyr, but it had been told much when she was younger and did not understand the workings of adult love. Now that her daughter was grown, she needed assurance, guidance. Hope.

"It was many years after Viddar had left me, ignoring his duty to me and his new child," Freyr remembered, stroking Sigyn's hair as she settled again into her mother's shoulder and embrace, preparing herself for a lengthy tale.

"I was desolate, Sigyn. I went back to my father after the divorce. Viddar had accused me of infidelity, and that was all he needed to ruin me. No proof to regain my honor, no solid evidence of my unfaithfulness to him. He had been jealous, and unsure of himself that he questioned my loyalties. My father took me back, and cared for you. My return to court society in the royal house of Vanaheim was...bitter. I had been a married woman rejected, and they despised me. They had believed Viddar's rumor willingly.

But there was one who did not believe it. There was one who was kind to me, believed the truth of my story. He was gentle in his dealings with me for he knew my heart had been offered to Viddar in the foolish impulse of youth. Eventually the tide of the court favored me, because he did as well. They gave their kindness to me because they saw he would be gracious. I was not the first choice they would have given Prince Iwaldi of Vanaheim, but I was his choice.

He was loyal to me. Defended me against gossip always and spoke tenderly of me. I knew then that he cared for me, that his heart would be open to me should I choose him. I fell into my love for Iwaldi slowly, Sigyn. It is like something that you can only experience and not be told. Once you realize it, the moment is gone and you do not know when it came.

I knew I loved him when I watched him with you one day. He did not hide from you, the daughter of another man. He embraced you, and played with you as a child. He gave you everything Viddar should have and more. Iwaldi wanted you to know acceptance, the love of a family and the guidance of a father. He cared for you and you returned his affection openly. He won your heart as he endeavored to win mine. That is how I knew I loved him. You'd been named Freyrsdottir, and he allowed you to keep the name. He never cared for titles or meaningless accolades. You were mine before I wed him, and he cared for you regardless of your past. Of ours."

Sigyn took a deep breath, her eyes reddened and starting to swell up. "How was he, when you left him?"

"Well, my love," Freyr smiled. "He'd been in conference with a house of Vanaheim, seeking a suitable match for you when I told him I was coming to visit you."

Sigyn bolted up. "I hope he hasn't-"

"Shh, darling. Queen Frigga's death is a slow rumor on the wind, that it reached us so late. I knew you'd be upset, and you know how overly fastidious he is when it comes to you. He will wait for news of you before he continues anything. I insisted."

"Thank you, mother," Sigyn sighed, pulling the sleeves of her tunic to cover the heels of her hands and scrubbed at her eyes. She puffed into the fabric that still smelt of magic, outdoors, dirt and...him. She breathed it in, closing her eyes, heaving another sigh.

"I shall tell you another story," Freyr said at last. "One that may help or hinder, but I will let you choose which."

Sigyn opened her eyes and looked at her mother's face, framed by rich, gold red locks. Her hands still covered her mouth, and she wasn't sure if she should – or wanted – to say anything in that moment. Freyr took her silence as permission to continue.

"My sister was taken as a consort to Asgard's future king. These were her chambers, where you reside now. A princess of Vanaheim, just as you are. She too, was given to the ruler of the Aesir so that he could better perceive the future and be aided by foresight and guidance. They married, she and the king of Asgard, and after about a year and a half, they had a son. It was known they were deeply in love, and yet it seemed difficult for my sister to conceive. For many years after they tried again to have another child, and at last it became known to her family and to her lover and king that her womb had been closed. No manner of magic, or prayer to any deity could open it. Not even her foresight had prepared her for the emptiness she felt.

Then came a war. On Midgard, there was a siege for power and dominion. The King of Asgard went and lead his army against the enemy, who terrorized the Midgardians and were not of their realm. My sister and her baby were left behind in Asgard, and rule was passed to her while he was away. She grieved his absence a long time, and yet took comfort in her baby, the son she had borne.

When the war was won, the king returned with a gift my sister cherished greatly the rest of her days. It was a baby, small and dark haired. He had saved a child from a temple, where it had been left to die. My sister nursed the child, raised it alongside the son of her body and took delight in the little boy he grew to be. He became proficient in magic and learned quickly whatever she taught him. And she taught him very much. So he learned alongside the child of her sister, his adopted cousin, and his skill now is unmatched throughout the Nine Realms."

Sigyn blinked warily. She'd known this story, the war of the Frost Giants, their hunger to overtake Midgard. She recognized the tale of Odin and Frigga, but what her mother was conveying was another side to the story, shedding a little more light on darkened implication. Her hands dropped from their hold over her own mouth and clasped together, her elbows resting on her knees.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked cautiously.

"Because it seems to me you know him better than you would like to admit, Sigyn," Freyr answered. "You've grown up together, and yet for some reason you've let slip into your heart a doubt. Doubt of yourself. You demean your own merits. I know you see yourself as a lesser daughter of a greater legacy. Do not let my being a goddess of love overshadow you. Take hold of the strands fate has cast your way, weave it yourself! Weave your own future, decide your own fate."

"And...if I cannot?"

"Do not say such a thing," Freyr replied, the fierce undertones of her voice and the strange light in her eye giving her daughter pause. "Break free from all that holds you. You will succeed. If you fear failure, do not make it an option. You are stronger than fear."

Sigyn rose and went to the window. Freyr did not follow her, but let her gaze linger on her daughter as she contemplated her mother's words. Sigyn brought her hand to the back of her neck, stretching sore muscles that were now protesting from her exercise that afternoon. The sun was setting over the hillside, the golden kiss of twilight just beginning.

Sigyn realized then that as Loki's fate had splintered into many different roads, so hers could as well. She would walk blindly, yes, but she could also make a road where there was none. What place did fear and doubt have in her heart? None. There was no room left for them. She turned to Freyr with a smile and the goddess with the hair of fire knew her daughter had victory of spirit.

* * *

It was to Loki's great surprise that Her Highness, Lady Freyr was seated at his father's table for supper. He'd had no previous warning of her arrival prior to her smiling at him over the rim of her cup. Odin's own smile went unnoticed, but he rapped his knuckles on the table to shake Loki from his gaping, and remind his son of his manners.

"Greet your aunt, Loki," he said. "And show the Crown Princess of Vanaheim your respect!"

"Forgive me, my lady," Loki finally said, taking Freyr's hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles. "The shock of seeing you, and your fiery beauty, chased all words from my lips."

"Master Silvertongue," Freyr chuckled lightly. "Suave as always, even in your surprise."

Volstagg sputtered past his food further down the table, where some small select courtiers were dining in honor at the Allfather's table. "Surprise, yes! Why are we not feasting and merrymaking in celebration of our honored guest?"

Odin chuckled as Loki went to his chair and seated himself. "It is unfortunate to your gluttonous habit, Master Volstagg, that Princess Freyr does not delight in revelry that makes boast of her presence. Perhaps another night."

"I thank you, my lord king, that you indulge my modesty on this visit," Freyr inclined her head to Odin. Loki's gaze shifted between them. "Indeed, I merely came to visit my daughter, and comfort her. I understand now that her grief is being put behind her in favor of joyous portents. News has but lately reached me of my sister's sacrifice and mingled with it, rumor of the future. Forgive me, Odin-King, that I came too late to offer the condolences from the House of Iwaldi."

"Condolences gladly taken, for the sadness is even now still too near, sister," Odin said quietly. Only those who sat the closest at hand to the king heard him, Loki at his right and Freyr his left.

Freyr sipped her wine again, the piercing light of her gaze on Loki. He knew that she knew everything, that he didn't need to hide from her, and he felt no warning against him. Indeed, it was as if Freyr were extending an invitation to the Daughter of Love, a blessing on his tie to Sigyn. He stabbed at the food on his plate, unwilling to accept it and acknowledge her authority yet.

A servant was pouring more wine when another servant came to Odin and curtsied low. Loki recognized the girl as one of Sigyn's new attendants. He frowned as the king bid her speak.

"I am sent to beg forgiveness for my lady Sigyn, Odin-King," the servant said. "She will not be supping at your table tonight, and will instead take refreshment and rest in her chambers."

"My forgiveness is granted readily to one so sweet in spirit," Odin answered. "I bid you send her my regards and hope that she is well. There will always be a place at my table for her."

"_Is_ she well, girl?" Loki broke in, before the servant was sent away by a wave of Odin's hand. Freyr brought her goblet to her lips again to hide the interested sparkle of her perceptive eye. The servant curtsied again.

"Well, but wearied, my lord prince. The burden of her ascension weighs on her and her preparation and tutelage thereof has left her seeking respite of solitude, I think."

None but Odin and Freyr paid any heed to the thin line Loki's lips had become. The servant was dismissed and immediately gossip flew from the tongue of every courtier at the table.

_She said I would see her tonight, and purposefully, she withdraws. If she will not come to me, I will go to her. I will not be ignored again._

The mutterings of court grew more than he could bear and he took his leave of Odin-king and Lady Freyr. His irritation that they were bold enough to openly discuss her true reason for not breaking bread at Odin's table ate at him, and it ate at him that he let it irritate him. His circular reasoning continued in the back of his mind even when he went to Eir and asked for herbs and medicines to ward off pain and sooth the body.

"Are you well, my lord?" Eir asked, complying to his request but with a slightly upraised brow.

"I will be later," he replied jauntily before he was on his way. He passed as a shadow the closer he got to the wing of the palace where her chambers were. Jetta and Britta were walking away from her closed chamber door, talking to each other quietly as they made their way down the hall opposite his path.

"I don't like that she's sent us all away," Britta was saying. "She's slipping into her new role a little too easy, I think."

_Old bag,_ Loki thought, annoyed. _She sent you away because she's tired of everyone speaking as if she doesn't know what she's doing!_

He stayed in the corner of his shadowed hiding place for a little before he cast a glamor over himself and made his way past a royal guard whose post was in the hall near Lady Sigyn's room. He influenced the guard's mind with a nod of his head and a smile on his lips. "I nearly forgot to give my lady her herbs," he said, his voice taking on the guise of Britta to match his appearance to the guard. The helmed guard inclined his head in a bored manner, conveying he didn't give a damn about the supposed servant or her herbs.

Loki went into the chamber after influencing the man's mind to later recount that he'd seen Britta leaving a short while after, her task complete. Closing the door behind him, he traced runes of silence and barring on the door frame. Sigyn would not be bothered tonight, and he would look after that.

The glamor melted away from him as he rolled up his loose sleeves past his elbow. With an easy gait, he passed through her sitting room lit by moonlight, through her bedchamber lit by the soft glow of a fire further within, to her bath in the inner most room, where he felt her. She was in the great tub before a strong and steady hearth fire, pelts and furs strewn about the floor beside the bath. Her eyes were closed as in tranquil rest. The only indication that she wasn't slumbering appeared when she extended a bare leg out of the water, over the edge of the porcelain to stretch and flex a muscle as to ease a cramp. The furrow of her brow and the slight twist of her lip told him just how much she'd exerted herself that day in long forgotten training. Her discomfort now was the price she paid for not practicing.

Quietly, Loki drew near and dipped a finger into her bath water, casting a small spell of healing. The water clouded a little and it had the effect of Midgardian bath salts. Her frown eased, as did the furrowing of her brow, and the flexing of her leg slowed. He took a moment to appreciate her creamy skin in the firelight that kissed it, the glimmering sheen of water on her leg, and her arms, and that little spot on her neck where her pulse beat. On impulse he knelt down beside her bath, before the fire, and set his lips to his favorite meal, nibbling gently. She gasped and pushed him away, splashing him with water.

"You've become adept at hiding yourself from me," Sigyn hissed, pulling her extended leg back into the bath water and sinking further into the tub to hide her immodesty from him. Vainly, she knew, as it would do her no good.

"You made it easier, with the myriad things that seem to be coursing through your mind, Sigyn," Loki smiled, not caring the state of his clothes.

"You'll scandalize my maidservants if they find you here, Loki!"

"You said I might see you. Oddly, I didn't come to scandalize _them_." Loki paused and regarded her a moment, letting those words sink in. "But you don't seem to be too concerned about _that_, do you?"

The warmth of the bath water and the fire was not enough to be blamed for the rush of color to her cheeks. "I concern myself with other things," she retorted.

"Such as?"

"The past...and a little of the future."

Loki tilted his head, his hand still in her bath water, siphoning more healing spells into it. He pulled his hand out and broke the sprigs of herbs in his hands, tossing them into her bath.

"Tell me. You and your lady mother discussed things that weigh on your heart, it seems. I would hear them."

Sigyn took a breath through her nose, the aroma of the herbs as they hit the water calming her. Vanilla leaves and lavender mingled and caressed her senses. Loki had come to her to ease her discomfort? She looked to him, the question in her eyes. Her answer was a quiet smile, and an almost shy affection.

"I..." she began, unsure how to ask without offending him. He seemed to sense her sudden distress and propped his chin on his crossed arms over the edge of the tub, being chivalrous enough to keep his eyes to hers, even if his emotions teased that he wanted more from the view. She pursed her lips and began again.

"I would have you answer a few questions I have, so that I may understand you a little better," Sigyn said. "But I would not force you to answer them if you would rather not."

"What would you know of me Sigyn?"

"You are not Asgardian."

There was a pause, and a glittering shade of emotion flitted across his eyes, much lighter than the deep tones of green he usually bore. It passed as quickly as it came.

"No. I am not."

"I am coming to know who you are, Loki. But...if you are not of Asgard...that is to say, if this realm is not yours..."

"You wonder what I am?"

"...I would not refer to you as an object or beast."

There was more silence. Loki was the one to break it. "What else am I, then? You would not call me so, but others would, and I accept it, and call myself a beast."

"I ask, Loki, because I felt your magic today. It was not like any other energy from any who cast spells in Asgard. It felt...darker, more dangerous. If you are not Agardian, and..." Sigyn sighed, frustrated. "I want to know all sides of you. If...if there is something of you I should know..."

Loki blinked. He knew it would have happened sooner or later. He had just been hoping on the later rather than sooner. He hated that she seemed to be afraid to ask him, but the troubled look in her eye was not a fear of what she'd see. He knew her heart was trying to be gentle with him, and her stuttering made it more endearing. In any case, there was a piece of her heart that wanted her to know what she was truly getting into, and know the manner of being he really was. He stood, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on hers. Vaguely, he was aware of her pulse quickening, jumping under her skin.

When he'd reached his full height, Loki took a soft breath and focused. He felt it like a strange crawling on his skin, his transformation. He let it begin at the top of his head, the tickling itch going from the hairline all the way down to the tips of his toes. He could feel the rising ridges and deep embedding of the ceremonial tattoos the jotun gave their kind at birth. The branding, marking of their own. The crawl of a coldness raced over his skin, and he suppressed the shudder of his chill.

He watched her reaction, looking for any sign of fear, hate, revulsion, panic. All he was given was a widened eye, and lips parted in her surprise. It was not fear he felt spike from her, but a wonder, an almost reverent consideration. Her hands gripped at the sides of her tub while he transformed, the suspense of what he revealed taking hold of her until he stood before her in the fulness of his true form.

Loki held out his arms and turned all around so Sigyn could take it all in. His skin was blue underneath the clothing he still wore, kissed with frost. Where his long dark hair had been, there were shorter spikes of blackened ice that seemed to be the crown of his might. The musculature of his lean body was corded, and seemed almost to wish to break free from the confines of his form. His appearance was similar to the Asgardian form, and yet not. The very...jotunness of him was terrible to behold, and it did not make Sigyn afraid. The scarred tattoos of his body were wild and savage, but it made him that much more beautiful...did she just think him beautiful to look at?

The laugh slipped from her lips unintentionally, and she caught it and tried to make it seem like the releasing of her breath in relief. She looked into his eyes and realized she missed the dance of dark green.

"So that's why you're so tall," Sigyn teased softly, wriggling the fingers of an extended hand a bit to will him closer.

His eyes were as smoldering rubies now, and they were full of self loathing and fear of her rejection of him. She held out a hand further, shifting in her bath tub to move closer to him. He made no move to take her outstretched palm. Her bath was deep and the dull, murky water hid her from him.

"You would accept this?" He asked softly, his brow furrowing underneath raised skin of scarred flesh. Sigyn paused, her lips turning to a frown. "You would beckon to a jotun?"

"Is this all of your form? Is that all the truth of your physical body?"

_Is that all? _Loki blinked. Was this not enough to rip a terrified scream from the throat of a woman? Was this not all it took, to describe this monstrosity to a small child at night to keep them from their sweet dreams? Sigyn's eyes darkened as they narrowed upon him.

"Does it truly matter what you look like, what physical form you take, or the heritage you have that you did not choose? The state of your spirit and heart are the same, no matter what shape you take. You could be the son of the meanest farmer in all the Nine Realms, and I would still beckon to you, Loki. You told me to not fear you. And so, I shall not."

All of the breath in his lungs left him in that moment, and Loki had to blink away the shock of revelation that exploded behind his eyes. Did she just...admit that she would trust and obey him?

"This...my true form does not bother you?"

Sigyn let her hand fall and rest on the edge of her tub, a smile twitching at her lips almost in time with the trembling staccato of his heart. "I must confess that I prefer your green eyes, but-"

Loki fell to his knees and promptly her lips, in that moment wanting to be whatever she wanted him to be. She laughed into his fervent kiss, the throaty chuckle vibrating into his chest as he held her close. He vaguely felt his other form washing over him as the dampness of her bath soaked through his tunic and the singular emotion of not giving a damn passed over him. All he could feel, taste, hear, smell was her. She had risen to her knees and her hands were in his hair, and her bare breasts pressed against him and her mouth was on his and it was glorious.

Loki reached into her bath and lifted her up by her thighs, pressing her against him much like he did earlier that afternoon. He swallowed that gasp too, turning to lay her on the pile of pelts nearby. There was a soft thud of her back hitting the floor, and her breath left her. He cursed himself for not being gentler, because she tore her lips from his to catch her breath. He gripped her thigh tighter and pulled it about his waist, wanting to feel more contact of skin on skin. Her hair was bound up messily in hairpins, and some curls were damp that had escaped and dipped themselves in her bath. He reached in the mass of her golden locks and tore the other hairpins out with a feral growl. Let her be wild and untamed, and match him.

She was his ambrosia, every moan and breathless sigh a feast for a god, a prayer to him. And Loki, benevolent god of fortune and mischief, answered each siren call with his lips on her mouth, her neck, trailing down her body to her navel and back up to pay especial attention to her breasts. She was not greatly endowed, and neither was she a small woman. Indeed, her assets were well suited to her form, complimenting her graceful curves and slender stature.

His tongue and teeth on her bosom were gentle and yet insistent, well practiced to the desires and pleasures of a woman. Where his tongue was not, his large hand was, a firm, slow touch pulling her breath from her. Sigyn had to fight to lower her tone, the volume and frequency of her moans growing until at last he paused to pull back and look on her. Too late, the fog of his seduction passed and it was with belated shame that she at last reached to cover her chest. She couldn't help it, she couldn't read the look in his eyes or why he stared.

Loki stilled her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. His laugh resounded within her soul.

_Don't hide from me. I revealed to you my form, and I do not get the same satisfaction of admiring yours?_

Sigyn fought to slow her breath even as the blush crept over her skin. Loki turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist, the movement slow and purposeful as he held her gaze. Then he spread her fingers and kissed each tip, the soft graze of his teeth not unnoticed. Her legs were still wrapped about his waist, and his other hand dropped to softly caress her hip as he continued nipping at her fingers.

_You were willing this afternoon, weren't you, to give yourself to me?_

Sigyn was still heaving for air, the turbulence of her emotion still a whirlwind. Yes, no...yes. No...yes.

_Are you still willing to give me your virtue?_

The look he was giving her almost made her heart stop. It was now or never. He was giving her a way out, a straw to grasp at to save herself. But the rebellious streak was coming back, the one that told her to leave the palace and go to the temple. It whispered to her, coaxed her until she'd made up her mind. Emphatically she nodded her head. It had to be tonight, before she lost the nerve.

Loki leaned down, cupping her cheek in his hand, giving her the sweetest, deepest kiss she had yet to be blessed by him. His hands caressed her softly, gently, taking hold of her behind her knee and pushing her legs apart further. His other hand slid up one thigh, edging closer and closer to a place that no one had ever been. She tensed underneath him as he traveled. He looked up and smiled.

_Be at ease, Sigyn. I will endeavor to be gentle._

His reassurance came even as a finger brushed at her entrance. The feeling surged up her body like the current of electricity and Sigyn gasped softly. Slowly and with much patience, Loki's finger entered her and massaged, finding a rhythm and stroking. Sigyn's eyelids fluttered and finally closed, the moan of her mouth and the pleasant smile of her lips telling Loki what words could not. The moment was short lived, because he found her barrier and closed his eyes, suddenly pressing harder within her. Her shrill gasp made him almost recoil as he felt her tearing. The soothing herbs he'd let fall to her bath water, the healing spells had done nothing to prepare her or dull the pain.

Loki willed himself to open his eyes and look to her. Sigyn's hand had flown to her mouth, her head turned away and her eyes screwed shut. Her body trembled from the shock of what just happened, and tears of instantaneous pain that was already past slid down her temples. Loki withdrew his finger to allow her some time, before he entered again, massaging a little. A second finger entered, pulling the thickness of blood out of her into his palm. He withdrew from her again and let his hand submerge into the bath water to clean himself. He repeated his motion until the flow of blood stopped.

Sigyn looked at him, unable to even voice her thoughts because they warred with each other. He spoke for her, understanding her emotion. _A necessary evil, Sigyn. I would rather you know this pain now, tonight, than in the wedding bower. That night will be all for you, and I would have it unmarred. I would have you know only pleasure._

Her quaking stilled, the truth of his emotion washing over her, the reality of his words seeping deep. She wondered if it would be as he said, and how long it would last, his wish for her to know only pleasure in his bed. He kissed her, and all other thoughts vanished.

Again, Loki worked his way slowly down her body, caressing her skin as he went. When he reached her hips again, he looked up to catch her eye meaningfully. He wanted her to watch, understand. Stop wondering. He wanted to prepare her for her future as his wife. He held up a single finger, before entering her with it. While he caressed inside her, he brushed away the curls of her nether lips and began to accost her from outside as well.

Loki smiled against her and laughed wickedly when he had to take hold of her hip to keep her from bucking him away. He looked up to see her react to him as he pleasured her with both mouth and hand. He suckled at her, pulling gently with his lips and her mouth opened but no scream issued forth. He pulled again, and a rasping heave of a gasp fled her lips as they clamped shut, her teeth biting into her flesh so deep he saw the drop of blood color her skin before it reached the open wound. She was trying so hard to control herself, to not cry out, to be a respectable lady even as her hips rotated for more. How delicious.

When he felt she was ready, he let enter a second finger, continuing with his tongue. He felt her shock, her gasp and looked up again. Loki let go of her thigh to hold up two fingers when he caught her eye, and delight coursed through him when he felt her understanding. A single thought fled, untouched by the storm of her emotion.

_Ye gods, how much more? Is there more? Is this what it will be like?_

He did not let her ponder long on this until he fit a third finger into her, curling his other two to the soft spot that he knew would force the explosion of her satisfaction, if he were to toy with it. A half-pained groan escaped her lips when he did so as she rolled her hips again, trying to adjust herself and accommodate. He pulled his mouth away and licked his lips. Sigyn looked down immediately at the loss of him and Loki held up three fingers with a wolfish grin.

He nearly cackled at the sudden widening of her eyes, the implications crashing all about her senses. Another thought escaped the storm of her emotion as she realized just how much trouble she was in.

_Oh, my...fuck!_

Loki threw his head back and let loose a full out laugh, the kind that drew a real smile of joy to his lips and creases to the corners of his eyes. He pulled her toward him, sat her atop to straddle his lap, all while keeping his three fingers within. The change of angle forced her to readjust around him and when he'd pulled her flush against him, she clung to him as if he would save her from flying apart.

_No more, Loki. If that...is your girth... you'll tear through...me like...a knife...through silk._

She'd have to learn to speak with her mind through the pleasure. Glee coursed through Loki at the thought of how much practice she was going to need, and gods, if she was this tight, he'd teach her every night, heal her bruising, and go at it again. Loki curled his fingers within her toward him, and wriggled, striking the cord of her ecstasy and covering her mouth with his to drink her screaming.

And she would have screamed too, when she tightened around him at last. Loki's kiss became soft and almost shy as she fell against him, limp and numb with the tingling aftershock of her first orgasm. He'd been generous that night, looking to her complete satisfaction on the surrendering of herself to him. Loki smiled against her hair, reveling in the sudden smell of her sex as he pulled his hand away.

Sluggishly, still in the daze of the moment, Sigyn lifted her hand that had dropped away from his shoulder. She pulled away, her vision dizzied even as she tried to look into his eyes. She blinked and Loki chuckled.

_I think you've had quite enough excitement for one day._

_Whuh?_

Loki almost laughed again, gathering her up in his arms and carrying her bridal style to her bedchamber. He turned down her covers and placed her between the sheets after conjuring her nightgown over her body. When he moved to pull away, her fingers curled against him and her thoughts bent toward him.

_Don't go._

The quiet plead of her tired mind touched him. Loki tucked her blanket around her before he stepped up and laid himself alongside her, to lay in bed with her until she fell asleep. She turned toward him, cuddling into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, lacing her fingers with his.

_What about you?_

The thought from her was only half a yawn and he felt her opening her eyes against him trying to blink away the haze of sleep. Loki pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. He never liked pillow talk, or the trembling waiting after the deed for another round. Whenever he'd had his fill, he'd send the woman away and collect himself in his solitude. He didn't know what made Sigyn's asking him to stay with her different.

Yes he did. She wanted him. All of him, even the sides that he didn't want to show anyone. He still marveled that she could so willingly accept his jotun appearance without so much as the bat of an eye. When had he gone soft for her?

Loki couldn't feel her conscious thought anymore, and he knew she'd fallen asleep, exhausted from so much passion and emotion in a single day. He kissed the crown of her head again and extracted himself gingerly from her grasp. It was with a devil's smile that he looked down on her. In the morning, perhaps, she'd come to the realization that though he'd taken what she freely gave, the sensation of his hands upon her would never prepare her for her wedding night. And he'd keep it that way, too. Loki wondered how long it would take for her to claw at him in her frustration of true fulfillment. His grin widened, a cheshire moon smile in the darkened room.

He was wholly, unrepentantly, unchangeably evil.

* * *

I've quoted movies in the last couple of chapters. I wonder if you can find them and guess where they're from. A hint: in the previous chapter, I gave Loki a line from a movie in the scene when Ylva confronts him.

There's another in this chapter, from a slightly more recent movie. Can you find it?

Also, I've done some researching for the villain in the story. I assure you that there will be lots of action coming. Soon, Loki and Sigyn are going to have to battle a very old entity who says that Loki owes him a debt. They're simply...unknowingly preparing for it.


	8. The Making of Majesty

VIII

The now familiar stone hall of the dark throne room was empty as Sigyn walked through it. On previous visits, Power would always be sitting in his seat to welcome her with a condescending nod. Or, Charm would be there to kiss her deeply and dance with her. They were gone, and it was eerie quiet, as a tomb.

There was a banner bearing a long snake on the wall behind Power's throne, and Sigyn was drawn to it, never having noticed the heraldry or decoration before. A soft breeze puffed at it, and she realized it came from beneath the fabric. She reached out and with a vicious tug she tore it from the wall. A doorway, a stairwell leading down. She passed through the door and took hold of an unlit torch from the wall sconce. Fire bent to her will and the torch lit, illuminating her descent. It was a long, lonely, winding way down until she at last came to an opening where the stairs ended.

A barrier sparkled before her, catching the light of her torch. Sigyn frowned and put her hand to it, at once realizing how weak it was. It was like a thin layer of ice, fragile and yet solid. She called the warmth of fire to her palm and it burned away the barrier with a voracity that seemed like a spark to a gossamer web. Whoever had cast the barrier did a poor job of it, for it bent easily to her will.

It was a great cavern that she entered, an underground spring lighting the vaulted ceiling. There was a strange glow in the spring that rendered her torch unneeded. She placed it in a wall sconce at the foot of the stair and moved forward. There was a chill here too, but something about this place seemed more desolate than the throne room above. Sigyn looked ahead to see a low platform raised from the stone floor, two steps chiseled from it. Several short, thick pillars encircled the seeming altar, unforgiving sets of chains set in them and webbing out to shackle the figure in the center.

Sigyn placed the back of her hand to her lips. Her heart constricted within her and an overwhelming sense of despair and brokenness swept over her. It was him, chained to the pillars. He was gaunt and battered beneath the long battle coat he wore, the spauldron of his princely station on his right shoulder seeming too heavy for his emaciated form to bear. He was chained by his neck, across his chest, his wrists behind his back, above his bended knees. He was forced into a submissive posture, unable to move from it.

She came closer and his head snapped up and about, listening with fearful intensity. He could hear her footstep but could not see her. His eyes were bound by a dark blindfold, and the closer she came, the better she could see that he was bound at his mouth by a thin and yet unforgiving thread. Dried blood caked the fiber and Sigyn had to choke back her anger and sadness. His lips were sewn shut.

Who did this? How could...why? He appeared too slight to make any form of aggression, to be so enslaved. Tears escaped Sigyn's eyes as she reached for him. He felt her fingers at his temples and he jerked away from her, a muffled gasp of fear exhaling through his nose. He was like a tortured animal, afraid and unsure. She took a firmer hold of his head, steadying him in a grip that was gentle and yet unyielding. The knots in the blindfold were too tight and before she even tried, she knew her fingers wouldn't be able to loosen them. She massaged the skin of his scalp, each fingertip reaching toward the knot, a spell untying it for her. It fell across her fingers and she pulled it away from him.

The Chained One blinked his eyes, and they were full of a wild and unadulterated fear. He was still tensed under her touch. Sigyn's lips contorted and could not hide her pained sorrow from him. She wanted to hold and embrace him to comfort him. The hold of the chains wouldn't allow it. So she caressed his face instead, trying to calm and sooth his anxiety. She touched the corner of his mouth, where the thread was knotted, in an attempt to remove it with magic. He jolted away from her again, the spell of a dark magic crackling between them and causing him intense pain.

Again, Sigyn reached for his face and comforted him with soothing touches and words, careful to stay away from the cursed thread. "I'm sorry," she wept. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He trembled against her like a horse that had lived its life being beaten daily. His eyes blinked away pain and he looked at her with such an intense agony that she sobbed again. It was then that she noticed under the criss-cross of the thread that bound his mouth, his lips were dry and chapped, as if he were in a desert dying. Sigyn sniffed away her sobbing and set to work in caring for him.

She went to the spring quickly, conjuring up a bucket and ladle. With the ladle she scooped up some of the water, dipping her fingers in and bringing them to her lips. She made sure to do everything in his sight, to assure him that she meant well for him. The water bore no poison, and when she was satisfied of this discovery, she drowned the bucket in the spring, filling it as full as she could and bringing it to him.

Sigyn knelt before him, using the ladle to bring water to his parched lips. The threads were wound tight, but he was able to part his lips just enough to let the liquid pass. She let him drink from the ladle greedily, and gave him more when he'd finished. She gave him more until he would no longer drink. Sigyn tossed the ladle aside and gripped the hem of her gown, grasping firmly and renting the fabric. The sound made him wince and shy away again and he kept his eyes lowered, afraid to look at her.

Sigyn dipped her finger into the bucket, murmuring a spell of healing. It clouded the water slightly, and she dunked the torn strips of her gown in. She pulled one strip out, and held it up. When she did not move further than that, he looked up at her, confusion mingling with his fear. She waited, holding the fabric closer a little, silently asking permission to attend him. He lowered his head in submission and she pressed the cooled fabric to his forehead, where caked and dried blood had covered a festering wound.

She cleaned him gently, dabbing everywhere she saw blood, everywhere she could reach. With another strip, she bound him up at his forehead and pulled away with a smile on her lips. She wanted so badly for him to know that she was a friend, one he could go to for succor and comfort. Sigyn reached for one of the chains, her hand grasping it at the base of a pillar. It did not yield. It frustrated Sigyn to no end to know that he was bound mercilessly and she could do nothing to save him from it.

She looked up at him, the twist of her lips in vexation and defeat allowing the salt of her tears into her mouth. But he looked on her finally with the light of understanding. She wanted him to be free, would bend her will to that end. He lowered his eyes again, his head following as much as his bondage would allow, his forehead resting on her shoulder. He understood, and so did she. Her task that she sought to take up would be long, arduous and quite possibly without end.

But, Humility realized, with a quiver under her gentle touch, now that she'd found him, she wouldn't give up on him. She would be patient, unrelenting. Untiring of her burden of his release and rise to overthrow Power from his seat.

Sigyn felt a prickle at her spirit, a subtle pull away from him. No, she wasn't ready yet. She didn't want to leave the spirit world. She was unwilling to leave him alone. But the pull was insistent, it was time for her to go back. She couldn't ignore it anymore.

"I will come back for you," she vowed, looking him in the eye so he could see the strength of her will. "I will return often. I swear it."

Sigyn would forever be haunted by the look in his eyes as she was pulled away from him. She awoke to the daylight, having returned to her body, his gaze still lingering in her consciousness. The gaze of one who dared to hope.

* * *

Loki sat at his desk, looking over sketches he'd made. Odin had told him to prepare the making of his own house, if he would not publicly take his father's name. It meant the creation of his own mark, the making of his sigil, the claiming of his own characteristics that would mark his line. It was the ending of one rule, the beginning of another. That Odin openly advised this was a surprise, but Loki fell to the task with determination and fervor.

There were many sketches and renditions of symbols involving snakes, or a wolf. Unfinished drawings of a sun sphere morphing into a crescent moon. Loki found he couldn't settle on an accurate depiction of what he wanted to represent his line, the symbol that would forever be the standard of his house.

There were other sketches, too, more detailed in their depictions. Drawings of a crown, set upon the back of a woman's head, and the different hairstyles it could be worn with. The shape and depiction of the crown remained the same, in memory of the beautiful fierceness he'd found in Passion. It was her crown, the one he'd seen in the fashion of bird's wings. The sketches varied in the open or folded position of the wings, until he'd found one that wasn't remotely ridiculous.

Helms were sketched as well, along with designs for armor. Where the final rendition of her crown was closed and folded with wings stretching close to her head, her helm's wings would be closer to her temples. Her neck and cheeks would be guarded, and the wings spanned vertically past the crown of the helm and the lower edge, behind her ears.

Loki was looking at the designs again and had to stifle a laugh from a memory long buried by anger. He remembered Thor when he'd first gotten his helm along with his dress armor. Thor had hated it with a passion. Designs for Sigyn's dress armor were not as pretentious, and complimented her form, but the sweep of the wings were vaguely similar, and Loki dipped his quill in ink to make note that her colors were to be gold, to match him, instead of silver.

His mischief would plague her to the end of her days, he knew. He could tease her mercilessly for so many different things, including her armor. The knowledge that she'd throw it back to him was growing, as he spent more and more time with her.

They met at night after dinner usually, and would let the time stretch between them until the fingers of dawn took hold and snatched it away. The night was always hers to give to him, and he greedily took it, rewarding her with deep kisses and artful zeal between their frequently growing discussions.

They learned each other. Loki studied her with an intensity he'd never before bent to the fairer sex, and she tutored him swiftly. She liked the opera house and theater, preferred walks in the royal gardens to the crowd of the feasting halls. She discovered he would look to the pulse at her neck when he teased her with pretty words, and sometimes would cover it with her hand when her gown could not. She stopped showing her shock at his innuendo, but the lovely blush never went away. She learned his train of thought and humor and would finish his jokes for him at times, playfully provoking him for kisses.

When finally Sigyn could no longer bear the tutoring of her impending station, Odin-King bade her attend court with him, apprenticing her to his judgment of domestic affairs. Squabbles between merchants, contests of land between neighbors and so on. Loki had attended some days in court and grew bored, even when Odin drew him in to participate by seeming to seek his opinion. Where Sigyn was dutiful in her king's guidance, Loki felt Odin was unkind and false in his teaching, mocking him.

At last, Lady Freyr made ready to depart, and Odin called his son to him to prepare for a journey. Odin and Loki fought each other, as the darker prince made excuse that Freyr's retinue would be enough to accompany her. Odin's good eye darkened upon his son and his tone grew icy.

"I would seek favor of the Vanir, even if they are disinherited in a war long since passed. You should too, Loki. You take from them a prize, in your marriage to Lady Sigyn. Go with her mother back to Iwaldi and ask what recompense he would have. I would have you strengthen the alliance between he and Asgard."

"Is not a message with Lady Freyr enough?" Loki replied, his selfishness not wishing to leave Sigyn at all, though he reconciled it in his mind as a favor to her.

"No," Odin frowned with a glare. "Words to paper should never be enough to solidify relations, or offer truce. Make show of your greatness, as you always wished to. Let Iwaldi see what manner of king you would be."

There was nothing for it, and so Loki sent a message to Sigyn to dine with him privately in his chambers that night, to offer apology. It wasn't the first time he'd asked her to grace him with her smile, and he made sure to word his request in a manner that begged it especially for that evening. He prayed she wasn't otherwise occupied, and was pleased when she came to him, bearing a small slender box when she arrived.

"I am told you'll be escorting my mother home," Sigyn smiled after he kissed her. His high forehead rested on hers and she was robbed of the sight of his beautiful eyes, however tired they seemed.

"A duty that will take me too long to return from, I am afraid."

Sigyn was quiet and he felt her tensed shoulders slump a little under his hands. She lifted her head a bit and touched his nose with hers gently, a sad smile on her lips that he was unwilling to open his eyes and see.

_How long, do you think?_

_A few weeks? Two months? I don't know, Sigyn._

A pause.

_It is a necessary task, my prince, one you could perhaps learn from. Take what opportunity you can, while you can. Complete your chore, and return to me, Loki._

His voice came to her like a childish stomping of feet and a pout on his lips.

_But I don't want to!_

Sigyn laughed lightly and pulled away from him, going to the table his servants just set, placing the small chest near his platter before sitting to the right of his chair. Loki used to sit at one end of the table and she at another. The distance between them, however small, was too much for him and eventually her place was directly at his side. She belonged there, always.

The servants had learned quickly to set covered platters at the table and fill the goblets, and then depart. Loki made it clear to each of them that his words to the woman who would be his wife were for her alone, and the solitude of their intimacy was intensely dear to him. Let no one else see or hear the softening of his heart but her. For with Sigyn, that knowledge would never be a weapon against him. He sat at the table after kissing her hand, holding her eyes for a moment. He would miss her horribly, but he loathed to admit how attached he'd become. She never pressed him to reveal it, and that's how he knew that she knew. He instead turned his attention to the parcel she brought.

"An early wedding gift," Sigyn smiled. "I couldn't wait anymore to give it to you, and I think it would be useful on your journey."

While Sigyn uncovered her dish and placed the napkin in her lap, Loki reached for the box. Upon opening it, he found twin daggers. Stiletto knives, long and dangerous thin. Emeralds decorated them, along with runes near the pommel. One knife was full silver with gold filigree, the other gold with silver filigree, and each were named by the runes. Luna and Solar. Loki could not hide his astonishment from her, but his silence along with the tide of emotion was deafening. Sigyn took a satisfied sip of her wine.

"I am glad you like them," she said at last, quietly. "He said you would be difficult to please."

"Who did?" Loki asked absently, admiring the shape and deadly beauty of each blade.

"The blacksmith."

"Who designed these?"

Silence. He finally rested his eyes on her, the bright green gaze piercing her. A blush lightly tinged her cheeks.

"I...that is to say, the blacksmith helped with practicality, but..."

Loki put away the twin knives and reached for her, his lips grazing the junction of her neck and jaw. Sigyn's eyelids fluttered at the sudden warmth of his mouth on her.

_How can I be displeased by anything that comes from you? You are too good to me, Sigyn. _

The evening passed as it should between a lover who must take leave of his lady. Quiet words over a meal, a toasting of his safety and her patience. They moved to his terrace where they sat and embraced each other under the stars, pressing kisses to each others lips. Sigyn retired earlier than he liked that night, to allow him a fuller rest, as he would be leaving the next morning. Loki did not find sleep easily that night, and watched the sun rise from the settee on his balcony.

Sigyn did not make show of her distress at his departure, but saw him and her mother off properly as was expected. When his long leather traveling coat was no longer in her vision, and the banners of Vanir and Aesir heraldry were fading into the distance past the gate of Asgard, Sigyn returned to her studies in magic with a fervor. Now that Loki no longer guarded his library or was there to taunt her with distractions, Sigyn was free to learn from the notebooks of the best in Asgard. It was with a wry smile that she imagined how annoyed he'd be to know she'd taken the presumption that he'd offer his knowledge, or the liberty in not even asking if he would.

But then, the look on his face when he'd see how much she had learned would be enough satisfaction for her to endure his biting remarks.

* * *

"Are none of you unsettled at the passing of these events?"

Sif's words seemed to be lost in the noise of the game of chance Fandral and Hogun were playing, along with the yawning of Volstagg's mouth as he put to it a leg of a turkey. In the time that Loki had been proclaimed next in line for the throne of Asgard, no one had heard from Thor. No word, no sign that he blessed his brother's ascension. It troubled Sif to no end that even Heimdall was so close lipped.

Indeed, it seemed she was the only one in Asgard troubled by it. Even her merry Three took part in the rising excitement that surrounded Lady Sigyn's quickly approaching coronation and the impending betrothal feasts. Where had their loyalty to the Golden Son of Odin gone?

Sif finally caught up the dice, demanding their attention. "What is wrong with you all, that you cannot see what is happening?"

"What is amiss Sif, that a king cannot choose his own heir?" Fandral sighed. He'd been winning, too.

"Not just an heir. Loki. Loki will be king. Again," Sif hissed, the poison of her own anxiety passing to each of her friends. "Who is to say what manner of edicts he will issue once he ascends. Do you have no memory of the last time he bore Gungnir?"

"He seems to be busy enough chasing the lady Sigyn," Volstagg piped up between mouthfuls of meat and mead.

"And when will he start chasing us? We, who were loyal to Thor enough once, to go to him on Midgard and beg his return. We can do so again. Come, Loki has been away from Asgard a week, we can perhaps..."

"Sif, this is different. Odin is awake, and chose Loki. It was not for lack of choice, this time," Hogun finally spoke, tossing Fandral's winnings at him. "To go to Midgard now would be treason."

"Whose treason?"

Sif jumped and spun about, Fandral leaped to his feet, and Hogun and Volstagg also rose from their chairs, if slower. Sigyn entered the near empty feasting hall, used by other courtiers as a lounge sometimes when it was not full of boisterous song and drinking. Her smile was easy and kind, belying what she heard, if anything.

"No one's," Sif said hurriedly, an arm over her chest in deference as she lowered her head. Fandral had seemed to forget Sigyn's irritated misuse of wine and practically fell over himself to offer her a seat. She refused it, politely.

"Come, Lady Sif. You are troubled, and I wish that you would unburden your heart," Sigyn said softly, gently prodding the warrior woman with her words. Volstagg and Hogun looked at each other, a look of quiet understanding passing between them.

Sif was quiet, unwilling to reveal her unrest. Sigyn smiled, knowing it had always been thus, and that her three warrior friends were stout of heart and loyal. It was this kind of friend that Loki needed, that he wished he had, she thought. And so she set herself to the task of procuring for her king that which he never had.

"I am not blind," Sigyn continued. "I understand your concerns, my lady, that you seek to protect yourself and the other Aesir. Consider, however, that in the time that Prince Loki has been preparing to take the throne, Thor gave up his birthright to it. He has forsaken his duty to Asgard in favor of love. And he continues in the heartbroken knowledge that the brother he loves is dead."

More quiet looks passed between Sif and the Three. It was exactly this reason that there was worry. What would become of them, if Thor was not there to lend aid? Loki was not the one they sought to rule.

"Know also, that this too weighs on Prince Loki's heart. Were he not burdened with a mission to Vanaheim, I think that he would be in Midgard, seeking out his brother. Odin-King considers all things. I beseech you all, do not take from Loki his right. It is from him that Thor must discover the truth, not you."

Sif's eyes hardened, untrusting of even Lady Sigyn. It was with a bitter heart that she spoke.

"Has he fooled you too, madam, that you speak so favorably of a trickster? I would have thought you would be longer in the purchasing or enchanting."

Sigyn's eyes shifted to a darker shade, and her mouth thinned. Fandral cast a nervous glance to Sif, begging her not to trouble their future queen. But her eyes became sad and thoughtful.

"You are too beautiful to be so angry, Sif," Sigyn replied. "Perhaps the burn of his lies has gone too deep, that you cannot feel the soothing balm of truth when it is presented to you. I am greatly honored that Loki takes me into his confidence. Should it not be so, between he and I? I say to you now that Loki's heart is also broken, though he takes great pains to hide it. Were one such as you to see its state, it would break further beyond repair. Be gentle in your watchfulness, Sif. And you, Fandral, and Hogun and Volstagg. You would so readily give your strength to one brother and deny it so hastily to the other. Is he so unworthy of your loyalty?"

A servant came forward and bowed to Sigyn before whispering a message. Sigyn nodded and replied to the servant before he left. She turned back toward the four, who were now ashamed.

"I am not angry at any of you, for you merely act as anyone would," Sigyn continued. "But if you would learn His Highness' heart, offer your service to him. I do not think he would be cruel to you. Would you not also like to learn my heart? Seek my face, for favor is readily given."

* * *

The journey had been over mountain passes and through valleys. Glad was Loki when he saw at last the spires of Iwaldi's palace. Too many lonely nights were spent camping in the wild, and Loki selfishly desired a soft bed, a bath and a hot meal that did not consist of gaunt wild life and dried meats. Lady Freyr's company had been pleasant, but not enough to sooth the raw emptiness he felt. The greater the distance that lay between he and Sigyn, the less he could feel of her.

The Crown Prince of the Vanir welcomed his wife home, and was exceeding gracious to Loki. Servants scurried to the kitchens and the guest rooms, to prepare for the dark prince's arrival. Horses were tended to, Aesir honor guard shown to their quarters, the usual din of homecoming.

Loki found himself in chambers prepared for him, after being promised by Iwaldi they would speak later on matters of state. The servants had warmed the bath, and prepared suitable clothing for a prince of Asgard. Scented oils and bath cakes mingled and created a soothing aroma, and Loki almost fell asleep in the tub. It was good to be in a civilized house, and something pulled inside him. He realized this was the home Sigyn grew up in. She never spoke much about her Vanir estate, and he began to wonder why.

Having clothed himself in a tunic and breeches, Loki ran a hand through his damp hair, walking across the room barefoot. Quietly, the door to his chambers opened and closed. Loki turned to see two young women peering at him as if he were a wonder to behold, whispering to each other. Both bore the fiery red hair of their mother, smoothed back into braided hairstyles that spilled across their shoulders.

"You are bold, to come to a man's chambers," he smiled turning more fully toward them.

"Not just any man," one of them smiled. "A prince of Asgard. Our future liege-king."

"Idunn, I told you he was handsome," the other whispered into her sister's ear.

"And who do I have the pleasure of meeting," Loki asked, his green eyes glittering. They were bold, these daughters of Iwaldi. They curtsied as the door opened softly again, and more of Sigyn's siblings came to him.

"I am Syn," said the taller redhead. "And these are my sisters, Idunn, Nanna, Var, Lofn, and Sjofn."

"Do not forget me, again!" the youngest stomped, her gold red hair shining brighter than any of her sisters'.

"Oh who could forget Your Impetuousness," Syn rolled her eyes. "We told you to keep watch, Snotra."

"You meant to leave me out," Snotra frowned. "I wanted to see him too!"

Loki looked about him, feeling the familiar prickle of being surrounded. They stood near him, their gaze searching and dangerous in curiosity. "Sigyn never mentioned any of you. I am disappointed, I would have liked to have been warned of your coming."

"She never told of you in any of her letters," Var laughed. "Sigyn never did like to share her own secrets."

"Really?" Loki answered, incredulous. And she'd seemed so open with him, too.

"Come now, would _you_ not want to keep this gentleman to yourself, Var?" Lofn smiled, and Loki was suddenly aware of the purpose of their visit. That Sigyn had not shared any details of her sudden relationship with the future king of Asgard, and neither did she reveal her family to him spoke volumes. Perhaps Sigyn was not as sweet in her temperament as some would like to think. The sisters pressed closer to him and their gazes grew hotter as they looked upon him.

"Dear ladies," Loki held his hand up, keenly aware that should he wish it, he could have his own harem from the House of Iwaldi. "I understand you would have requests of me."

He ignored the flutter of giggles and charmed laughter, pressing the advantage of his powerful charisma. "I am but one man however, and insist each will have their turn to be granted audience."

"Oh but then each of us must behave properly," Nanna spoke, pressing her lips together slyly. Loki saw that she most closely resembled Sigyn with the shade of her hair most golden and darkest red. Her eyes were least blue, however, and he never thought he'd miss those depths most of all.

A shiver ran down his spine as Syn and Lofn reached for him, their hands gentle upon his forearms as they held him while Snotra and Sjofn put their hands to his chest. Loki's eyes darkened even as he realized just how much trouble he was in. He had to put a stop to it, otherwise any treaty he would make of Iwaldi would not end with honor.

"I may only have one of you," he said, his lips suddenly very close to Var's. When had she moved behind him, and why did the sin of her mouth smell so sweet? "And I have already given my word to one of your blood. Sad is my heart, for she is not in this room."

Disappointed moans, darkened brows of women disregarded. Only Syn drew away with a smile on her lips and she shared it with a sister, who understood as the others left in displeasure. Again, only Syn and Idunn stood before him, their approval apparent.

"It is well you stood against the seduction of the Daughters of Freyr, Goddess of Love and Pleasure," Syn smiled. "You allowed us to test some of our lessons and you have proven to us that you would be true to our sister."

"I greatly pity the man who is favored by more than one daughter of Iwaldi," Loki smiled, placing a hand over his heart and bowing. "If that was only a small test, I pray that he would have a resolve of steel."

Idunn smiled. "Pray that he would have, too, a measure of your graciousness, O Loki-King." His title was as a caress on her lips. "We shall treat of you again one day, on other matters."

* * *

Sif took out her frustrations on her fellows in the training ring. Her aim was precise, the strength of her arm merciless as her glaive swung about. Volstagg's battleaxe bounced off her shield and Hogun's mace missed its mark. Even Fandral had trouble finding an opening in the slashing hurricane that was the Goddess of War.

At last Sif stood above her winded comrades, urging them to continue. None of them rose to her challenge and Sif's shoulders slumped. She hadn't even begun to tap into the fury of her emotion. Volstagg was greedily gulping water when he looked up past Sif to see a familiar smile, congratulating them all on a job well done with applause.

Sif turned and frowned even as she bowed. "My lady," she murmured. It was Sigyn, fully dressed in leathers as if she too would be in the training ring that day. The warriors took note that there was already a sheen of sweat on Lady Sigyn's brow, and the heat of the day had not yet reached its zenith.

"How unfortunate that your friends cannot help you ease the tension of your heart, Lady Sif. I thought that a gentle word might have helped," Sigyn said, letting her hands clasp behind her back as she approached. Hogun frowned, gesturing to her garb.

"And you would, my lady? You do not strike us as one who would wield a sword well enough to satisfy her."

"Indeed not," Fandral spoke. "I thought you only practiced a more feminine art."

Sigyn blinked. Ah, so he knew she was growing more proficient. "Yes. Because only women are able to practice magic. Much like only men may practice war. Isn't that right, Lady Sif?"

Sif's frown deepened. "Do you mean to say that you know your way about a blade?"

Sigyn tilted her head. "Some. I cannot claim such glorious skill as yourself-"

"And why pray, did we not know of this before?" Volstagg's secret delight was in surprises of any nature, and this revelation was about as good as when Sif bested one of the finer warriors in Asgard's military years ago.

"I suppose that when one looks upon me, they do not feel the need to ask," Sigyn smiled. "We are all of us victims of false characteristics, are we not? Lady Sif is not merely a woman or warrior. Master Fandral is not merely a duelist, and Hogun is not merely grim. Just as Volstagg adores not just food and wine, I am not simply a woman of gentle nature."

The silence of shame swept over them all. Indeed, they had underestimated Sigyn, and they suspected she was trying to teach them not to underestimate someone else as well. But Sigyn did not come to merely teach. An itch pulled at her hand and she looked to Sif again.

"Come, you would continue to spar, would you not?"

Sif suddenly looked to Sigyn as if raising a sword against her would promptly earn her a place in the dungeons. "I...we were just finishing..."

"Nonsense, I have energy left over as well. Training magic isn't enough to stretch and test the body. I would be your next opponent!"

Sif suddenly remembered sparring with Loki when they were younger and wondered if somehow he'd found the time to teach his intended. A burning curiosity blossomed over her mind and against her better judgment perhaps, she nodded to Sigyn who stepped further into the training ring. When Sigyn made no move to arm herself with even a wooden sword, Sif frowned again.

"You would ask me to attack an unarmed opponent?"

"Sif," Sigyn's smile made her and the Three a little uncomfortable. "This is for your benefit. You'll have to learn to trust me. If it makes you feel better, appearances aren't everything. I am not weaponless."

Her hands were still clasped behind her back and Sif took a breath before rushing at Sigyn, swinging her glaive in a lunge. Volstagg and Fandral shared a gasp of surprise when Sigyn simply leaned backward, the blade of Sif's weapon passing harmlessly over her. A light shimmer of a golden shell flashed when Sif struck at the enchanted shield that covered Sigyn's body. Her movements were fluid and graceful to match the opponent she had in Sif but as they sparred, Sigyn's stances were not...natural. She moved with a speed that was just out of Sif's reach, the lean of her form unsupported by the muscle of her body.

Sigyn moved with spellwork, letting Sif exert the physical force of her own body, wearing her down with little to no effort on her part. Once Sif realized this, her anger broke forth and sought to catch Sigyn with a new fervor. With a growl, Sif sprang forward and swiped at Sigyn's midsection as she spun away from a previous blow. Sigyn had no time to dodge and conjured a pair of daggers, glancing the blade away and stumbling backward.

Sif pressed her advantage, raining blows down on Sigyn one after another. The weight of her blade on the daggers was too much and again Sigyn used spellwork to speed herself away from Sif. The goddess gave chase, unwilling to give her future queen a chance to breathe. Let her understand the rage of war, let her know the turmoil of a heart she sought to comprehend. Sif jabbed her glaive out and with a frustrated howl met only air. Sigyn had leaped up and was balancing for a moment on the blade itself before crashing to the ground, pinning the metal beneath her boot. It did not give when Sif twisted at it to pull it away.

"Yield?" Sigyn smiled, suddenly aware that their audience had grown from the Three to many in the palace guard and military. Even the royal guard were approaching, the plume of Odin-king's cape not far behind. Magic shimmered in her hands as the daggers disappeared.

"You cheated," Sif hissed. Sigyn's smile did not falter.

"Ah, but are you still frustrated?"

Sif lowered her head, admitting only to herself that the thrill of the fight had overcome her and she had forgotten some of her bitterness in the sweat of labor. Sigyn was gentle in her dealings with personal matters, and Sif's heart was safe in her hands as she drew away enough to allow the warrior to put away her weapon and bow with her to the king.

"Lady Sigyn," Odin was saying. "I hope you haven't followed Sif's desire to be counted as a fellow among men."

"No, my king," Sigyn smiled, going to her monarch's open arms to embrace him. "But I do not think courage can only be found in the heart of the stronger sex. I merely wished to help in her training."

The Allfather's voice dropped in volume so that only Sigyn may hear him. "Courage and folly are in every heart, no matter their physical form. There is a troubling matter I would have you know of."

An unsealed letter was pressed into her palm and Sigyn frowned as she opened to read it. "From Lady Karina," she whispered. "Was she not-"

"Yes, my son's first. It is well she wrote me, as it is not for her that I worry."

Sigyn read on, her brow furrowing further and further until she reached the end of the letter. She lifted her head and pressed the missive back into Odin-king's hand, not looking him in the eye as she spoke.

"She warns of something I have little time to prepare for. What would you have me do?"

"Your affinity to the arts will be of great help. Are you able to cast a copy yet?"

"A vision, yes, not a physical copy. I am still learning to control mannerisms as well."

"Glamors, then. Can you cast one over yourself, convincingly?"

Sigyn's eyes widened. "I hope you aren't suggesting that I pretend to be-"

"A confession before arrest would be ideal, my dear," Odin said, a hardened glaze settling over his eye. "I would have the path of your future with my son be cleared. This woman is a stumbling block. You should not suffer her."

Sigyn looked over her shoulder to Sif, Fandral and the others, who were being surrounded by soldiers thirsty to hear the tale of how the spar began. She blew a breath through her nose and when she looked back at Odin, her own eyes were hard as diamonds. "I will send her a message to meet with me. She will confess."

* * *

The Vanir that were left to the realm were not many, and as such desired little. Indeed they that remained either served the House of Iwaldi or lived near the last mansion of Vanaheim that told of forgotten greatness. The rest of them had gone to live in Asgard after the war that had taken their sovereignty.

And so Loki's conversations with Iwaldi himself were less like a vassal to his feudal lord and more like a father testing the character of a suitor. His manner toward the Prince of Asgard was kind, and the demigod was made to understand how Sigyn developed her natural compassion and empathy towards others. For it was not only Crown Princess Freyr that taught his intended. Walking with Iwaldi in his private gardens, Loki felt more at ease with a man he'd barely known than he ever had with the man who claimed fatherhood over him.

"I do not speak to you as if you cannot tend to my daughter's wants or needs," Iwaldi was saying. "Indeed, that she should become the Queen of Asgard is beyond my wildest ambitions for her. Truly, Sigyn will want for nothing. Anything she could possibly desire, she will have."

Loki did not respond. For nearly two weeks Iwaldi had spoken to him off and on, gauging him with a quiet eye. He knew he was being tested, as he'd always been tested. This time however, he knew the end was worth the means. He did not grudge Iwaldi for seeking to understand him. He looked to the elder man, taking in the softly weathered face, the blond hair that was streaking gently with grey. Iwaldi looked tired and yet venerable.

"But?" the younger prodded with some impatience.

"It has ever been my aspiration for my daughters to know love. All of them have been brought up in a tightly knit family. Sigyn may not be the child of my body but I never treated her otherwise, and her siblings never knew any different.'

Loki's mouth drew into a fine line, and his bitterness overflowed before he could stem its tide. "Must have been nice," he murmured.

Iwaldi smiled and looked to the darker prince of Asgard. "It is well known that you are set apart from your own family, though the particulars have been carefully guarded. Odin-King and his wife never meant to expel you from their affections. Indeed, Queen Frigga came from a family whose habits were what I attempted to instill into my daughters. Acceptance, unconditional love. These are virtues that Sigyn has known and will pass to you and her own children. Virtues that we shall pass to you with open arms, if you allow it."

Loki blinked, suddenly looking to Iwaldi, searching for any sign of superciliousness. He paused in his stride, his brow furrowing. Iwaldi turned to him and nodded, confirming that which Loki did not dare to name to himself.

"It is known to me that you feel you have no place in the Allfather's House. Even a man as proud as you desires a kinship. You are allowed weakness, loth as you are to admit it to anyone. It is my wish to offer this to you – the affiliation to my House, and my blessing on your union with Sigyn. My only request is that you could find it in your heart to honor my daughter in love, as she was meant to be loved."

Loki's jaw tightened. How was it that he could be so openly read? He, who was master of deceit and many faces. It was as if Iwaldi reached into the vault of his masks and pulled out the exact one he wished to speak to. He was as Sigyn, gentle and kindhearted toward him. His hesitance brought a smile to his host.

"You have nothing to fear from me," Iwaldi said, drawing closer, his tone dropping to a murmur so that only Loki could hear. "You have many secrets. I vow to you I shall keep them all, and would gladly place myself to your service, as my king. Many are the fiefdoms under Asgard that look to your rule with growing interest. I think we shall see a great prosperity by your hand, Your Majesty."

Loki then took Iwaldi's outstretched hand, grasping forearms with him in agreement of like-mindedness. In his heart, Loki was open to the House of Iwaldi, as it had been opened to Sigyn. He would take that which her father offered. He perhaps did not love Sigyn as he should. But he knew with time, he could.

* * *

It had been a month, and Fandral gaped as he watched the Second Son stride from the royal stables, a pleased smile on his face lit by the setting sun. Looking about, a troubled stare settled over the duelist. "My lord," he called, hailing the prince.

"You've just arrived? Where is your retinue that set out with Lady Freyr?"

"I rode ahead, friend," Loki smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. "I could no longer wait!"

"Haha, you sly thing!" Fandral chuckled. "It is well you've returned early, Lady Sigyn could do with your company."

"And I with hers, Fandral! Come, we will speak later, when I am less distracted."

Fandral sent his prince on his way and watched the man went up the steps three at a time, his height taking easily the bounding strides. The crease of Fandral's brow did not lessen, however. Something was off, but the duelist couldn't put a finger on what it was. Shaking his head, he decided to forget it over a cup of ale and a lusty barmaid.

Loki made his way down the corridors, ignoring any and all servants who greeted him. He greeted the guard at the door with a nod, dismissing him before entering Sigyn's sitting room. There were no servants within, and only a single woman sipping a light wine, seated in a stuffed chair. He inclined his head in mock deference.

"Lady Ylva," he said. The lady in question only half turned her head toward him. Loki frowned.

"I was invited," she hissed the moment he advanced. "And your...intended seems not to have any concept of time."

"Why are you here, Ylva?"

"To make sure you look after what's yours," Ylva snapped, rising and turning more fully toward him. Loki glared his hardest, forcing Ylva to elaborate after rolling her eyes.

"The last time we saw each other we had a rather heated discussion about your ability to change. How delighted everyone will be when they discover you've changed for the better, to take care of your little girl."

"I have no child," Loki blinked.

Ylva smiled. "Yes you do."

The prince cocked his head. "Do I, now?"

"I have papers that trace the bloodline of my dear baby girl Isa directly to you. What kind of father would you be to not tend to your own child and provide for all her needs?"

"So," Loki pretended deep thought. "You intend to blackmail me with a child you've had by another man...oh but you have papers signed by a physician no doubt...to extort funds from the royal family to pay for not your child's needs, but your own need to...go about in ill-purchased gowns, drink horribly expensive wines and take all sorts of pleasure you shouldn't."

Ylva's smile only grew wider as she sipped her wine. "Mmmhmmm."

"Why?"

"Why not? If you will not accept me, then I'll take what I can get. And poor sweet Sigyn, how scandalized she'll be. Oh she'll keep it quiet for her sake more than yours. Everyone knows your reputation, but hers will be shot to pieces. She'll be ruined if anyone were to find out."

Loki's smile thinned as he stepped forward and caught up Ylva's chin. "You, Ylva, are perfectly demented."

"Yes," she purred. "I know. Isn't that the way you always liked me?"

Loki leaned in dangerously close and Ylva was holding her breath for a last kiss that was not meant to be. The door to Sigyn's inner chamber opened and out stepped Lady Sif and Odin-King. Sif looked positively livid as she crossed an arm over her breast and bowed to her prince before calling the guards.

"You did rather well...Loki," Odin smiled, looking at Ylva with a promise of justice. The girl looked like she'd had too much wine and might be sick.

Fandral and Hogun accompanied the guards into the room that would escort Lady Ylva to the dungeons there to await her trial for blackmail, extortion and treason.

"You were right, Allfather," Loki collapsed unceremoniously onto the stuffed couch nearby, a bunch of grapes in his hand. "That was rather fun."

Sif blinked at the prince, whose posture was suddenly all wrong, and the mannerisms were out of place. Odin rolled his eye and Fandral couldn't stop blinking away his confusion. Ylva looked at her one-time lover with disgust.

"So you truly did not love me," she asked, feigning tears.

"Oh come off it, Ylva, you didn't love him either. You were stupid enough to get caught at the game, have the good sense to face the fate you gambled with," the figure on the couch chomped at the grapes. Sif turned to the Allfather and pointed at the couch.

"That is not Loki."

"No indeed, my son has yet to return from Vanaheim," Odin smiled. "Reveal yourself."

With a laugh to crinkle those beautiful green eyes, 'Loki' transformed into a blonde woman dressed in a tunic and breeches. The crinkle stayed even when green was replaced by dancing blue, and the laugh changed to a higher note in melody.

If Ylva could kill with but a look, she would have perished. But Sigyn was yet a woman to look at death and laugh. Sif's incredulous mouth fought the victorious grin that suddenly desired to take over, and Fandral pointed at Sigyn while Hogun escaped showing a smile by escorting Ylva to the dungeons.

"_**HA**_! I knew it! I knew you were too pleasant at the stables!" Fandral was saying. "That was brilliant!"

"I merely employed a tactic of deceit for the sake of a confession, Fandral," Sigyn replied, suddenly hungry for more grapes. Odin stayed her hand when she reached for the bowl of fruit again.

"Loki will thank you," he said quietly. Sigyn did not take comfort in that.

* * *

I hate this chapter. It was a pain in the ass to write and I feel that the quality and content suffered. I was looking to create a chapter that housed time progression, and I don't feel I did it very well. I'm tired of rewriting it, though. Not my best, but it'll have to do.


End file.
